Facilitating Change
by Aurette
Summary: Hermione ends up in a dead-end job because she never went back to take her N.E.W.T.s.  Severus is at loose ends because no one will offer him a job. Fluffy Angst  Flangst!  AU, EWE?, SS/HG, M for reasons.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** True story: I just got Word 2007. I've been using the word processing program from Vista all this time. So, in an effort to take my hobby more serious, I got a real Word program. Anyhoo, I took a few days to polish this story, and swapped each chapter to the new format and deleted the old format without saving the edits. Um. Yeah. Well, I managed to lose three rewritten chapters. o.0

So... This will not be as polished as I hoped, I've run out of time to rewrite them all over again. It's been alpha'd by **Hebe GB, Dressagegrrrl** and **astopperindeath**, but it has **not been beta'd**, and won't be as polished as intended...

Not Mine, No Money.

* * *

Hermione Granger was bored. This wasn't unusual, considering her job, but today it all seemed just a tad more banal than usual. Her first week on the job, she'd organized her desk behind the counter. She'd only needed to shift the paperclips from the left to the right, for maximum efficiency, since. She'd spent the second week in a whirlwind of cleaning spells, Tergeoing, Scourgifying and Evanescoing everything in the place—the previous clerk had obviously not been even remotely diligent. She'd spent the third week changing the colors of the carpeting and the walls from the usual industrial gray and mildew, to a warmer, more pleasant palette of ambers and taupes. She'd even changed the steel gray enamel on the desks to a faux-wood grain to make it seem less soulless. The fourth week, she'd pulled apart the only filing cabinet, alphabetizing twenty years' worth of records, and filing them by year for good measure. That had killed a few hours. On the fifth week she had started in on the plants. Variegated ivy and Fiddler Ficus stood, leaned and draped all over the office, the latter making a relaxing, soothing sound to cover up for the lack of white noise that would have told her there was even one other soul in the building. Of course, there were hundreds of people in the building, but the layers of Protective, Silencing, Imperturbable, and every other Charm that was used in the Ministry, made her tiny office absolutely sound-proof when her door was closed. And regulations required her door be closed at all times.

She was now into her twelfth week on the job, and had already finished the Muggle Romance Novel she had bought off a used rack at the Tube station that morning.

It wasn't that she did nothing at all. Occasionally, someone did walk through her door. It was just that, well, in three months, only five people had walked through that door and three had never come back.

Her horrifically ugly cuckoo clock, bought at a junk shop in a fit of madness, told her it was time for lunch. She picked up her shawl, draped it about her shoulders, grabbed up the recycled ice cream tub with her lunch in it, and headed off to the Ministry Cafeteria. She'd be damned if she'd eat at her desk.

* * *

That afternoon brought the most excitement she'd had yet on the job—outside of one unfortunate incident involving her ham sandwich and an excess of mayonnaise that had left her with a regrettable resemblance to a porn star in the cafeteria. That afternoon, she had _two_ people enter her office.

The door was swept open dramatically at exactly two-fifteen, and a tall, gangly-looking man swept in with a billow of robes.

"Mr. Edgerton! How lovely to see you again! Have you a new potion to patent? Or have you made revisions to your last one?" She eagerly grabbed up two clipboards with the relevant parchment forms—self inking quills already in place.

The man sneered. "Alas, the fools in charge utterly rejected my last patent application. A fact that I despaired over, knowing that my formula could have saved countless people from agony. However, a good theorist never wastes time; one must constantly set one's mind to new tasks. Therefore, I have a new formula to submit."

Hermione lifted the one clipboard and set the other back into its place in the cubby under the counter.

"Here you go, sir. Just fill it out at the desk over there, and you will be advised by owl when to bring in your sample for testing."

"I already have the pertinent information written down on this parchment," he said brandishing a scroll. "It occurred to me that since you were new, it was most likely your fault that something went amiss last time. Be a good little witch and just send this on its way."

Hermione managed to keep her Pleasant Clerk expression from faltering. "I am so sorry, Mr. Edgerton, but a prolific potions theorist such as yourself, must know that nothing can be processed without the proper Ministry form. Now, why don't you take this over to that desk by the wall and you can transfer the information with a modified Gemino."

The supercilious wizard snatched the clipboard out of her hand and turned away from the counter. She stuck her tongue out at him as soon as his back was turned. He had just sat down when the door opened again and Severus Snape appeared in the doorway.

"Prof– Er, Mis– Ah… Sir!" she said in happy surprise. "You look well! I've been wondering if I would ever see you here."

He stopped and blinked, still half in, half out of the office. He looked around the room in confusion, seeing all the changes she had made, and then looked at her.

"Miss Granger? Is this still the Office of Potion Patent Applications?"

"Yes, sir," she said brightly.

"Then what the devil are you doing here?" he finally said, stepping into the room and letting the door close behind him.

"I work here," she responded.

He looked around the room again, and then over to the single filing cabinet.

"Why?" he asked, his voice expressing irritated confusion.

She gave him a cheeky smile. "Nepotism, sir. You see, with my family connections, it was a breeze for me to enter employment in the Ministry and begin my march up the ladder of influence so I can make my mark on the world. And here I am." She waved a hand around the tiny office. "Queen of All I Survey."

He frowned at her, but then his lips quirked. "Very droll," he responded. "But seriously, Miss Granger, is this the best they offered you?"

"Yep," she said, popping the 'p' with finality.

He sort of smiled, and a gloating smirk crossed his face. "I suppose it's too much to expect that Mr. Potter is off in charge of Parchment Requisitions and Mr. Weasley is filing job orders to have Kingsley's office swept and mopped everyday at three pm, sharp?"

Hermione laughed. "I'm sure that would make your day much brighter indeed, if I were to say that was the case. No, Harry and Ron are off chasing their dream of playing for the Chudley Cannons. You don't need N.E.W.T. scores to play Quidditch. In fact, I'm not sure you even need a brain."

His sneer was replaced by yet another look of confusion. "What do you mean, about the N.E.W.T. scores?"

"We never took our N.E.W.T.s," she explained.

His eyebrows rose to unprecedented heights. "And this is why you are here? Why on earth didn't you take your N.E.W.T.s, Miss Granger?"

He looked at her as if she was a particularly dim candle and she found herself amused, rather than defensive. There was something normalizing about having Professor Snape look at her as if she were an idiot.

"I was a bit busy at the time, chasing after Horcruxes and being tortured by Lestranges. By the time it occurred to me that the war was over and I could go back to school, life had moved on and school was over."

She lifted up a clipboard. "Now, are you filling out a first-time patent application? Or is this an improvement on one already submitted?"

"First-time," he replied curtly. He snatched the clipboard out of her hand, before settling another disapproving look on her. "Miss Granger, are you telling me that no one offered to allow you to sit your N.E.W.T.s after the war?"

Hermione's smile flattened slightly. "Sir, please. I'm sure you find it highly amusing that the insufferable Know-it-all finally got her comeuppance, but I must ask you not to rub too much salt in the wound. I might regret having sent all those Get Well cards." She gave him a small pat on the hand still clutching the clipboard, letting him know she understood his amusement, but it was getting a bit stale. "Take your small vindication, and go fill out your form."

He scowled at her and swept away from the counter to sit at the desk farthest away from Mr. Edgerton.

Hermione tapped her wand on the kettle hiding under her counter, and gathered up fresh forms and got them ready to place onto the clipboards, once they were free again.

Mr. Edgerton stood and came back up to the counter. "Here you are. A tedious waste of my time, if you ask me. You could have simply attached my prepared information to the form and sent it off."

"I'm sure that your potion is important enough that it would be a terrible loss if it were to vanish due to a clerical error, sir. I am very appreciative of the time it took you to fill out the proper form."

Mr. Edgerton's chest puffed out. "Actually, it _is _a rather advanced potion and a necessary one at that. I have developed a solution that will dissolve Muggle Chewing gum from hair."

She stared at him, and then shifted her eyes to Snape, whose head had snapped up and who was now staring at Mr. Edgerton like he had just sprouted horns. They shared a brief flicker of incredulity before she turned back to the wizard at the counter.

"You've made peanut butter?" she asked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Peanut butter. It takes chewing gum out of hair."

"What the devil is peanut butter?"

"You know what? That's not important right now, what's important is getting this paperwork filed, yes? Let me just get right on that. I'm sure you will be hearing from the Patent Application Board in a few weeks. I will send you a letter informing you when they want a sample of your potion."

Mr. Edgerton looked at her with suspicion but then stepped back from the counter.

"Yes, well, splendid. See that you do, girl." He turned and walked out.

She looked back at Snape and they both smirked at each other before he bent back to his parchment.

"Would you like some tea?" she offered. "I have some biscuits as well."

His head came up again and he looked at her with suspicion.

"Do you normally offer tea to applicants?" he asked.

"Usually, I do, in fact. Mr. Edgerton lost his offer for being an insulting and very condescending arse."

Again, Snape gave a slight quirk of the lips. "I have been informed on many an occasion that I am also an insulting and condescending arse, therefore, your criteria is flawed."

"True. But you are much better at it than he is, and then there is the fact that I like you. I don't think I like him at all."

He sat back and crossed his arms. "Miss Granger, what is the point of this false flattery? I know for a fact that you never liked me."

"I'm not flattering you. I save that for idiots like Edgerton. And I do like you. I always did, actually. Well, I did hate you a good bit after you insulted my teeth. And after that night on the tower, I would have been pretty hard put to find a charitable word to say about you, but that was part of your plan all along, wasn't it? We weren't supposed to like you. Once the truth was out, I was right back to finding you rather admirable. In an intimidating and insultingly condescending way, mind. Thus, all the get well cards but lack of personal visits while you were on the mend. Tea?" she asked again, holding up the pot.

He blinked several times and then nodded his head slowly.

"How do you take it?"

"Milk and two sugars, thank you," he said.

She poured him a cup and fixed it up and then, after lifting the hinged section of counter and stepping down, she brought him his tea, and a plate of biscuits.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," he murmured.

"Not at all," she replied. "Let me know if I can be of any assistance."

He nodded and went back to his form.

She returned to her post, behind the counter and fixed up her own tea. She took Mr. Edgerton's form, created a duplicate, rolled the original into a tube and placed it into the messenger cylinder. Originals were far too precious to be mangled into paper airplanes. She carefully labeled the cylinder and then walked over to the small chute at the opposite end of the counter and sent it on its way with a tap of her wand. Then she filed the duplicate in the filing cabinet and was done. She had fulfilled the sum total of her responsibilities.

She sipped her tea. It had barely cooled.

She nibbled a biscuit.

Then, since there was a distinct lack of alternatives, she stared at Snape.

His hair was slightly longer than she was used to in the past, but just as lank and greasy-looking as always. It hung in his face, obscuring nearly everything but his sharp, hooked nose. He wore his usual black robes that seemed to both make him look more intimidating, and less. When he stood, they added an air of unmistakable gravitas. When he sat, they seemed to be trying to swallow him alive. He sat hunched over, face rather close to the parchment, in a manner resembling that of a student that is tired of being copied off of.

She wondered if he needed glasses.

Standing at the counter staring down on him, it occurred to her that there was something vastly amusing about the situation. She continued to stare until she finally got the reaction she was looking for. Nearly invisible behind his shield of black hair, his eyes started to dart up at her and his quill stopped moving. Finally, he sighed and lifted his head.

"Miss Granger, is there a purpose to your staring?"

"Why? Does it bother you to have someone standing up here staring down at you while you sit at a desk and try to concentrate? Someone in a position of authority? Granted, it is a paltry amount of authority, but even if my authority barely covers twelve feet by twelve feet, I _am _Queen of All I Survey, after all."

He tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. "I don't think I ever realized how perverse you were, Granger. Odd? Yes. Twisted? I had no idea."

She giggled. "I never realized how normal, you were, Snape. It's been an enlightening day all around, I'd say."

He gave her that quirked lip again. "Haven't you anything else to do?"

"Nope."

"A book to read?"

"Finished it."

"Then make yourself useful and put on another pot of tea," he said, returning to his form.

She laughed and tapped the kettle again and Evanescoed the teapot.

She stepped down from her throne and went to retrieve his cup. "Please tell me you've invented something more interesting than peanut butter," she said, as she took the cup.

He snorted and they shared a look of superiority over Mr. Edgerton.

"I've decided to submit the potions I developed during my recovery for testing and possible use at St. Mungo's."

"That's marvelous! So there are more patent applications on the way?"

"Yes. I have several. But I won't be able to get around to the others if you don't stop prattling at me and let me get on with my paperwork."

She turned away and made a face and he muttered, "I saw that."

She giggled and poured him another cup of tea, adding a few more biscuits to the plate. He thanked her when she brought it to him, and she decided to leave him alone.

She went back behind her counter and got down to the serious business of making paperclip sculptures.

Eventually the time came when he rose from his desk and came over to her, bringing his forms, and his cleaned dishes.

He leaned over the counter and looked down, and when he saw her minimalist interpretation of a horse, he snorted and shook his head.

"Will that be all?" she asked, taking the clipboard from him and making a duplicate copy of his application.

"Yes. That will be all for today."

"I will take care of this right away, you should hear back from the Ministry within a couple of weeks. Do let me know if you have any issues or need any questions asked. I really look forward to seeing you again, sir. I've enjoyed your visit."

He looked at her oddly and then nodded his head to her, like a gentleman. "Thank you for the tea, Miss Granger. It has been an… _enlightening _experience." He smirked at her and quietly left.

She sighed when he was gone and looked at his original form. The familiar, spidery script brought back memories of happier times, when they were always terrified and fearing for their life. She rolled it up and shoved it in the cylinder and sent it on its way. Then she took the duplicate and opened the file cabinet. Pulling open the file marked 'S' she went to shove it in. At the last minute, she pulled the whole file out and began to sift through it. Finally, about halfway back towards the end of the file, she found them. Snape's last patent applications, with ribbons of Approval affixed with wax. She looked through them in fascination.

Severus Snape held almost thirty patents. The last application had been processed during her first year at Hogwarts. There had been nothing since, until today. She looked at the office coding and saw that nearly all of them were assigned as public domain for use at St. Mungo's. Not only was Snape a genius, but he was a selfless genius to boot. He made enough to keep him fed, and let the rest of the world have the rest.

She placed the new patent application in the front of the folder and shoved it back in the file.

She turned and looked around, but there was nothing left to show for her busiest day at work, ever. She looked at the clock and saw it was only three-thirty.

She sighed.

* * *

Reviews are lovely.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: This is going to be an even faster bombing run than the other story. I apologize for choking the inboxes of those that have me on Author Alert.

* * *

_'He looked at her with tear-moistened orbs of emerald green, and she felt her heart fill with song as he broke his resolve and reached out a trembling digit and traced her precious love bead with one well-muscled finger._

'"_You are a glorious woman, Lisle" Etienne said in a voice filled with lust and longing and a harrowing need. "I want to sup upon this secret jewel. Tell me I can! Tell me that you have saved yourself for me!"_

'_A lock of tawny-colored hair fell across his fathomless green gaze, and she reached to brush it away._

'"_Yes! I have! Take it! Take all of me, my lord!"_

'_He leaned his noble head between her creamy thighs and with one caress of his silken tongue, she felt herself lifted away as she experienced the transcendent glory of her very first taste of orgasmic ecstasy.'_

"Miss Granger."

'_He positioned his sword at the entrance to her sheath, and with a look containing all the years of longing he'd secretly carried, longing that he didn't have to hide any longer now that their love was sanctioned by King Leopold, he began to push his turgid manhood into her womanly tunnel.'_

"Miss Granger?"

'_Forgive me my precious, love! May this be the only pain I will ever cause you!' He reached a hand up and toyed with her coppery disks, and his caresses of her round and ripened breasts sent her spiraling away on a cloud of bliss. He took a deep breath and drove his love pump home, tearing through her maidenhead until he was fully sheathed in her hidden places. The burning, searing, pain made her cry out, but he held her in his arms and whispered his love for her until she realized the pain had turned into pleasure and the world was set back to rights. _

'_When he felt her start to thrust against him, he smiled, knowingly, and together they raced towards the gates of heaven. Lisle felt herself transported again, to that place she had never been before and she heard Etienne declare his love as if she was high above the world looking down, as he emptied his seed deep within her womb. _

'_They held each other lovingly, cherishing the afterglow of their lovemaking, and she knew she was_ _now carrying a bit of him inside. She knew she now carried his heir and was proud.'_

"He 'pushed his turgid manhood into her womanly tunnel?' What kind of twaddle is this?"

Hermione let out a squeal when a long fingered hand snatched her book out of her grip.

"Snape!" she cried, lunging for the book as he turned it about and began to read.

"My, my, my, Granger," he said, with dripping sarcasm as he jerked the book away from her. "I am severely disappointed in you. And look," he added, flipping through the pages, "you've dog-eared the best sections, haven't you?"

"I did not! It came that way!" she snapped back indignantly, climbing up onto the counter to extend her reach. "I got it off a swap rack in a coffee shop this morning!"

He rolled his shoulder, keeping the book out of her reach. "And yet, you are already on page… two hundred and eighty-six, and it's only ten o'clock in the morning." He dodged to the side as she launched herself off the counter, but she caught his arm just above the elbow and hauled it down by clinging and turning into dead weight.

"I might have skipped ahead a bit," she admitted through clenched teeth. "It's not like you can take house points, you know. Now give it back."

"Oh, look here, now she's drinking his man dew while he writhes. They make that sound positively revolting. This could put a person off of sex for life. Are you reading this as a form of contraception?"

She growled at him and he actually smiled, if in a loathsomely condescending manner, and she was just becoming aware of how very strong he was, as she dangled from his elbow, when they were interrupted by a 'fwoop' from across the room as a message cylinder arrived.

They both froze, and looked at each other. Now that the moment had been spoiled, they had no idea how to act. She straightened up and held out her hand, and he dropped the book into it.

"What are you still doing here, Granger?" he asked, as she smoothed down her robes and retreated behind her counter.

"I thought we had already established that I worked here." She said as she went to retrieve the message.

"Didn't McGonagall get in touch with you?"

"No. Why?"

"I would have thought she'd have looked into your situation after I wrote to her. It's been weeks, after all."

"You wrote to her about me?" she said, staring at him in surprise.

He stiffened and lifted his chin. "You came up in passing during a bit of correspondence after I saw you last."

"I'm rather touched. Thank you, Professor," she said.

He waved a hand, dismissively. "Obviously, it was nothing, and I am no longer a Professor, Miss Granger. A simple Mister will suffice."

"I'm still touched. That was rather kind of you. Would you like some tea?"

"Thank you, but no. I'm just dropping off a sample of my Tissue Regenerator Potion, as requested."

"Ah, in that case…" She leaned down and rummaged in a drawer and came up with a padded envelope. "I haven't had a chance to use one of these yet! I'll take the sample; you fill out this form."

He handed her a labeled vial and snatched up a quill and started to jot in the necessary information. She inserted the sample into the envelope and pulled out her wand to seal and ward it against damage during transportation to the lab downstairs.

"So, tell me, Simple Mister Snape, what have you been up to since you left St. Mungo's six months ago? I've been hopelessly out of touch with what's been going on, I can't abide reading the papers anymore."

He gave her an inscrutable look and stared around her office before replying. "Actually, Miss Granger, my life makes yours look like a veritable whirlwind of activity. I'm not doing anything at all, aside from occasionally puttering with my potions."

"Is that due to lingering health problems from the snake?"

"No, it's due to lingering anger, suspicion and the occasional death threat," he said snidely. When he saw surprise on her face, his own expression softened. "I'm considered an employment risk. Killing your employer doesn't look good on the C.V., you know."

She stopped and stared at him. "Good heavens!" She narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you having me on?"

"I assure you, I am being uncomfortably truthful."

"You mean to tell me, that a wizard as powerful and intelligent as you, with all of your qualifications and experience, can't get a job doing research here at the Ministry, or even at St. Mungo's? Have you tried talking to Kingsley?"

He stared at her with his lips pressed flat in annoyance. "This from the Brightest Witch of her Age stuck doing the work of a trained monkey."

"But surely, Kingsley would see _you_, I mean after all, you're not just a kid to him."

"Are you saying that Shacklebolt wouldn't even _see _you?"

Her face fell. "Well, he is a busy man, now that he's Minister. Arthur got me this job. I know it's only entry level, but he said if I proved myself to my superiors, then I could try for competency tests to move up to new positions as they come open."

Snape snarled and shoved his finished form at her. "Here."

"I'll send this off right now, sir. You will hear from the Ministry when they make their final decision."

"Thank you, Miss Granger. Have a good day. And for the love of Merlin, find something better to read before your brain rots."

"Yes, sir," she said with a mischievous smile. "I could lend it to you when I'm done; you missed the part about anal sex not counting as far as 'still being pure.'"

His eyebrows shot up. "I'm almost afraid of the words used."

"'Forbidden tunnel of sinful pleasure,'" she replied with glee.

He grimaced and shook his head. "That's just..."

"Isn't it? I laughed myself into a wheeze on the train."

* * *

"Severus! This is an unexpected surprise! Do come in!"

"Minerva. You look well, as always."

"And you look healthier than ever; the sun is uncommonly bright, and my Christmas was lovely, thanks. Now that we have all of that out of the way, what is on your mind? I'm a busy woman."

"Why is Miss Granger still rotting away in the bowels of the Ministry? I would have thought you'd have done something by now."

The Headmistress lifted her eyebrows. "What exactly was I supposed to do?"

He furrowed his brow and shifted forward in his chair. "You could have let her sit her N.E.W.T.s. You could have offered her an apprenticeship. There were many things you could have done," he snapped.

Minerva's eyes glittered with defensive anger. "I offered! Miss Granger was sent an application to sit her N.E.W.T.s just after the war, along with an offer to return to the castle for an intensive refresher course, if needed. We never heard back from her, nor Potter and Weasley, for that matter. Honestly, Severus, she was not the only one whose education suffered, we had dozens of students whose lives were uprooted in their final year, not to mention the students that spent most of it hiding in the Room of Requirement from _you_. Don't you dare come in here all high and mighty and accuse me of not caring enough about one foolish girl who's now crying because she only just realized her choices are limited. I've had my hands full these last nine months, I assure you."

"Where did you send it?"

"Excuse me?"

"Her letter. When you offered her a chance to sit for her exams, where did you send the letter?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You sent it to her parents, didn't you?"

"Well of course I did!" Minerva snapped.

Snape gave her a nasty smile. "I spoke with Arthur Weasley at the Ministry today. I've been a little removed from things and wanted to catch up a bit. I learned an interesting fact about Miss Granger. Did you know she wiped her parents' memories and sent them to Australia during the war? Sad, really, she couldn't reverse the Charm. They have no idea they even _have_ a daughter.

"Tell me, Minerva, how long did you go without a response before you took the time to research the possible reasons why such a bright and studious girl would ignore the chance to learn more?"

He let her stew until she squirmed.

"How… _disappointing._" His words dripped with disdain. "And one of your favored cubs, to boot."

He unfolded himself and stood. "Of course, there still are measures that could be taken, but, as you pointed out, there are other students to oversee, and I see you are too busy."

He turned towards the door and had made it two steps further than he'd assumed he would, when she stopped him.

* * *

Hermione sat at her desk with her face buried in A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, when the door opened. She looked up right away.

"Good Morning, Mr. Snape! Welcome back! Are you filing a new first-time application?"

"Yes," he replied, as he approached the desk. He pulled out a thick packet of papers and took the first one off the top, as she reached for the proper clipboard. "I'll take that; you sign this," he said shoving the paper at her.

"What's this?"

"It's a form, Miss Granger," he said snidely.

She rolled her eyes at him. "I can see that. And yes, before you get any more obnoxious, I can see it is a consent form. I want to know what I am consenting to first." She smirked at him. "Brightest Witch of Her Age, and all that, don't you know."

"You are consenting to an evaluation to see if you are ready to sit your N.E.W.T.s, Miss Granger. Sign it."

She stared at him without blinking. In fact, it wasn't apparent whether or not she was even breathing.

"I…" Her words trailed away and she finally snatched up the quill from its holder and scrawled her name on the bottom of the form.

He lifted the paper and then dropped the thick stack of parchment on the counter in front of her.

"You may begin," he intoned, as he went over to claim a seat and fill out his own form.

There was a lull of about thirty seconds, before she screeched, "You mean right _now_?"

"Don't be a dunderhead, Granger. That is simply a pretest to see what areas you need revision in. Do get busy. I haven't got all day." He bent his head down to his own form and began writing.

Hermione went to pieces. She started to flip through the pages and saw the questions covered everything from the Goblin Wars, to the magical properties of vole dung. She began to hyperventilate.

"I-I can't!" she said in a faint, hoarsened voice.

"Then don't," he replied, without looking up.

She flashed him a panic-stricken look, waiting for his next cutting remark, or a guilt trip about this incredible thing he had done that she throwing away so callously, but he just sat there, filling out his form. Whether she took this test or not, seemed to be of no account to him, whatsoever.

She looked down at the top sheet of paper and re-inked her quill.

* * *

_Dear Harry and Ron,_

_How are you? I hope things are going well. I read the highlights of your last game against the Falcons. Ron had a few good saves, from what I could understand, and I had to laugh when I read that he took out Cormac McLaggan. Heavens, I know it's petty, but I still hate him so much. _

_Ginny wrote. She's doing well, but misses Harry terribly, as I am sure he knows. She's very excited about being scouted by the Harpies while still in school, so the three of you will be in the game soon. How wonderful!_

_Speaking of school, you will never guess who has turned into my personal hero! Well, he already was a hero, obviously, but I'm talking about something slightly less important than saving the world, but no less impacting to me. Professor Snape found out that I never had a chance to sit my N.E.W.T.s. Apparently, I was asked, but the papers were delivered to Australia. I'm sure you can understand how that made me feel to find out after all of this time. _

_Anyway, he has arranged for me to be able to sit them again with this year's graduating class, and will be supervising my revision. He's simply marvelous! He's so different now. He's very kind and patient and has a wonderful sense of humor. Who knew? _

_I took a pretest today, to decide how many N.E.W.T.s to sit, or if I even have enough knowledge left to study for just one. _

_I don't think I did very well, but I will just have to calmly wait for him to tell me my score before I start thinking of which subjects to narrow things down to, or if I need to throw myself off a cliff. _

_I can do calm. Right? Patience has always been one of my strengths, after all. Stop laughing, Ron._

_Well, I must get to bed, Crooks is giving me the evil eye. Good luck on Saturday against the Bats, I will be thinking of you both._

_Cheers,_

_Hermione_

_

* * *

_

She can do calm, right? She was always so rational when her grades were on the line.._._


	3. Chapter 3

Snape stood in the crowded lift ignoring the suspicious glances and waiting as patiently as he was capable of being for it to arrive on the third level.

The witch crammed up next to him, with her pulpy breast smashed into his arm, had the most atrocious breath he'd encountered since Macnair. He finally graced her with his most malignant sneer and said, "Must you breathe?"

She recoiled with a huff that nearly peeled the paint off the walls, and the other occupants of the lift stared at him in resentment.

The lift stopped at the third level and he began to force his way out, stopping just short of hexing people when the doors started to close again before he reached them. It probably wasn't a good idea that they no longer took a person's wand when one arrived. Winning the war presented all sorts of unexpected temptations.

He squirted out of the lift with a growl, adjusting his robes and patting his pockets, before heading away from the office of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes and towards the lowly and easily missed Office of Potion Patent Applications.

He opened the door and stopped short. "Miss Granger?"

He stared at the stacks of books making up a barrier three feet long and two feet high on the counter where she usually stood. Her head popped up over the top and her eyes widened in alarm. She didn't bother moving the books so she could lift the section of counter; she just crawled under it. He stepped backwards in alarm at the sight of her.

The Miss Granger he had first run into in this office had been a self-assured and well put together young woman. This creature resembled a crazed mad-woman, with her hair nearly standing on end and filled with quills, and ink stains on her fingertips, robes and even under her nose and across her cheek.

"I blew it. didn't I? You did this marvelous thing for me, out of the goodness of your heart, and I failed you!" She scuttled up to him and grabbed handfuls of his cloak. "I'm so sorry! You were right! You were always right about me!" Her face morphed from grief, to irritation in a heartbeat. "Except for the teeth, there's a big fucking difference between a slight malocclusion and honking big fangs growing down to your chin, you know!" She turned away and crawled back under the counter and disappeared behind her pile of books. "Go. Just leave me. This is the only thing I'm qualified for. It was cruel of you to offer me hope," her muffled voice said.

Silence reigned after her dramatic last words. He closed the door behind him, and walked over to the counter, as quiet sobs emitted from behind the books. Closer inspection revealed they were an eclectic mix of school textbooks, and more in-depth tomes borrowed from the Ministry library.

"If you are quite done?" he said in irritation.

Her head popped back up. "You're still here?" She mopped at her face with a sleeve and smeared more ink on it. "Oh, you want to submit another Patent Application, don't you?" Her head disappeared again before he could stop her.

"Miss Granger!" he snapped.

She reappeared at once, with a frightened look in her eyes. "Yes, sir?"

"Have you decided what N.E.W.T.s you would like to sit? You have qualified to take all of them except for Divination. Your scores for that were abysmal."

She gaped at him like a puffer fish, making him scowl even more. "All of them except…?"

He watched as her eyes rolled up and she dropped out of sight with a thud. He scrambled under the counter to see her sprawled face-down on the floor.

"Miss Granger?" he called, as he crawled to her side.

He cast a Diagnostic Charm to see if she was seriously injured, and then slid an arm under her, lifted her up, and turned her over, ending up with her in his lap. He fixed her nose with a quick Episkey, and zapped her with an Ennervate. "Miss Granger?"

She opened her eyes and looked around, disoriented, before her eyes settled on him and she smiled. "Hello, Simple Mister Snape," she said dreamily.

"Hello, indeed," he said, shoving her off his lap onto the floor again. "Why don't you show me where the tea things are, you look like you could use some. When was the last time you ate?"

"How long has it been since I took that test?" she asked.

"A week and a half," he replied. "It took some time for each professor at Hogwarts to grade their section. Surely you've eaten since then?"

"I'm not exactly sure about that. In fact, I think I ran out of tea last week and keep forgetting to pick some up."

He climbed to his feet. "Come on, Granger. Let's feed you. You're obviously delusional from lack of nutrition."

After locking and warding her office door, they set off back to the lift and headed to the Floos.

Arriving at The Leaky Cauldron, they found a seat in the corner. For once the nasty stares he usually received were muted in favor of open-mouthed stares at his companion's state of attire. She finally seemed to notice.

"If you could order me something, I'll be right back," she said, blushing furiously.

He watched her set off for the ladies before turning towards the slouchy waiter and giving him an order for two of the day's special and a pot of tea. He pulled out her evaluation and tried to smooth the folds where it had been crushed in his pocket.

Two steak pasties and the tea arrived just as Miss Granger had made it back to the table. Her stomach gurgled loudly when she sat down. She looked infinitely more human, and less inky, and they set to eating without bothering with conversation. It wasn't until the second pot of tea arrived that he sat back and picked up her evaluation.

"Just what was all that back there in the office, Granger? Surely you couldn't have been that worried, aside from your Divination score—which would have been higher had you simply randomly picked answers—you scored in the eighty-ninth percentile in the next lowest subject."

Her face fell and she looked like she'd received a blow. "What subject was that?" she asked, in a shocked and worried voice.

He scowled at her and replied, "Potions."

"Oh, good heavens. I'm terribly sorry, sir."

He tossed the papers down in disgust. "Granger, you haven't been in a classroom in over eighteen months. You fought and won a war between now and then. I gave you no time to prepare—indeed, I didn't even give you enough time to sharpen a quill—and you still scored in the top eleventh percentile of the entire Wizarding population, and you're sorry?"

"But that was just the pretest. I'm sure it wasn't nearly as in depth as the N.E.W.T.s themselves. And besides, I've never scored an eighty-nine in anything before. That's terrible."

"Actually, Granger, I gave you a truncated version of the N.E.W.T. test without the practical, so it wasn't any easier. And if you feel terrible with an eighty-nine in potions, then I won't bother to inform you of your thirty-two in Divination."

"Oh, Divination doesn't count. It's far too stupid a subject for me to begin to give a damn about."

He raised an eyebrow at her utter dismissal of one aspect of her education. After witnessing her complete collapse over the subjects she'd basically mastered without trying, it was even more confusing.

"So what do you want to concentrate on?" he asked, handing over her scores.

"Obviously, not Divination," she said as she scanned the sheet. "Can't I take all of the rest of them?"

"You could if you're a masochist. It would require a ridiculous amount of time and energy. Isn't there an area you've thought about to specialize in? A type of magic that intrigues you? A subject that draws you?"

"Well, I have been interested in trying to find out how to reverse Memory Charms," she said casually.

It might have worked if he'd remained unaware of her story. However, he saw the slight tremble of the lip, before it was pulled under her teeth, and the slight strain around the eyes that presaged the sting of future tears.

"That's a noble calling. You would need to study to be a Healer first, which requires Potions, Arithmancy and Charms, and then you would do well to specialize in Defense Against Dark Arts, since there are many overlaps between reversing spell damage from curses and curing inadvertent spell damage, and Dark Arts deals with the effects on the mind more that the other disciplines."

"How long do you think it would take to get to the level of competency required to be able to heal memory trauma?"

Again, she asked it in a casual, theoretical, almost whimsical voice, and he realized just how well-practiced she was at underplaying her own losses during the war.

"I'm not going to mollycoddle you, Granger. The level of expertise you are talking about will take you at least ten years of intensive study to achieve, and it's a well-known fact that Memory Trauma becomes permanent after only two or three months at the most. There is nothing you can do to save your parents. However, if you want to try and save someone else's down the road…"

His words faded off as she lost control of her facade. Her eyes filled with the postponed tears and her jaw shook as she tried to control her mouth.

"I didn't know," she said quietly. "I thought I was saving them. I didn't know it would be permanent." She pulled into herself, her arms wrapping around her stomach, and her shoulders hunching up tight. She turned her face away as the waiter returned to the table to take the plates.

"Two brandies, if you please, and the bill," he told him. When he was gone, Snape looked at her and watched in fascination as she struggled to get her emotions under control. _What an odd girl_, he thought. She could easily go to pieces over the possibility of a bad grade–in a subject she felt worthy–and yet struggled not to react at all when it came to losing people she cared about. He sighed and drew on his experience as Head of Slytherin.

"You did save them, Miss Granger. The Dark Lord _had_ ordered their deaths, and yours as well." She darted a shocked glance at him, and he nodded his head solemnly. "I understand how much you must hurt that you cannot reverse the damage, but at least understand that what you did was not foolish. I am very sorry that you lost your parents. For all intents and purposes, they did indeed die. But there are two people in Australia that are rather happy to be alive at the same time, yes?"

She nodded and made a small gulping noise in her throat before turning towards the waiter. She reached for her brandy and the bill, snatching it away from his fingers.

"This is on me, Mr. Snape. I cannot repay you for what you have done for me, not just in arranging for me to take my tests, but in restoring a badly mauled sense of conviction. I was so sure I was right to do what I had done. But as the war ended and everything seemed to slide back to normal in only a few short months, it seemed like I had made a colossal mistake. No one ever told me that my parents were actually targets. It only seemed like a logical bit of caution if I was going to go on the run. You've made me feel better about my decision, and maybe that will help with the loss." She lifted her brandy up and said, "To new understandings and second chances."

He tipped his glass to her and drained it.

* * *

Hermione sat at her small desk in her tiny flat and went over seven years' worth of Herbology with gusto. She was amazed and excited about how much of it came back to her and she filled scroll after scroll with notes. There was no practical for Herbology, so she was concentrating on bulleting those points she thought she would need to go back over before the test came up in June.

She was interrupted by a loud pounding on her door that made her jump and sent Crookshanks' claws into her thighs as well. She shooed her familiar off her lap and stood up, pulling out her wand.

"Hermione! We know you're in there!"

She smiled and raced over to the door and threw it open.

"Ron! Harry! Come in!"

She hugged her friends as they stepped into her flat, filling the small space to capacity.

"Blimey. Would you look at this place?" Ron said. The two men stared at the cluttered scrolls and scraps of parchment and the stacks and stacks of books on every surface. "Oi! Harry, look." Ron pointed to the color-coded revision schedule on the wall over her desk and the two men snorted and laughed.

"Brings back memories, doesn't it?" added Harry. "Lord, Hermione, have you eaten? You used to forget to eat when it got this bad."

She laughed and nodded. "Yes. Snape sends me Patronus messages at noon and six in the evening if I don't send him one first. I'm not nearly as bad as I used to be in school." Ron gave her a skeptical look. "Alright, I wasn't well-wrapped when this all started, but I've been much better in the weeks since. In fact, I'll prove it. Let me grab my handbag, and we'll go grab a bite."

"You're on. I'm starving," said Ron. "Can we do curry?"

"Sure, there's a place right around the corner." She pulled out her wand and sent her little otter scampering out the door.

"You really have to tell Snape you've eaten?" asked Harry.

Hermione blushed. "Trust me. After the second time he found me half-demented from lack of food, the lecture was long, blistering and humiliating. Sending him a message is much better than having him appear in person."

She locked up and they headed out the door.

"So what brings you two to darken my humble door unexpectedly on a beautiful Saturday?" she asked, once they were seated and drinks and appetizers ordered.

"We had a weekend off," said Harry, "so we went to the Burrow. We thought we'd stop by and see you before meeting up with Ginny in Hogsmead later. You look good, Hermione. Happy, you know?"

She flushed and distracted herself with pulling the paper off her straw.

"So tell us about Snape," said Ron, earning an annoyed glare from Harry.

"What about him?"

"Rumor has it you two are an item. Is it true?"

Hermione choked on her sip of water. "Me and Snape? Are you serious? What rumor? Whose rumor?"

"Rita Skeeter's rumor," muttered Harry "You're still not reading the papers, are you?"

"Only the sports section on Mondays to find out what you two are up to. Have I really been in the papers? With Snape? The Wizarding world must be bored out of their minds to make us an item."

"It started a few weeks ago," Harry said. "When you were photographed looking rather upset with him in the Leaky. We were both worried about you, until we got your letter. It would've been the afternoon that he told you about your parents. The gossip has been going on here and there since. Then yesterday another photograph appeared, and it all blew up again."

Ron dug into his pocket and pulled out a torn bit of newspaper and smoothed it out before handing it over to her. The caption read, 'Beauty tames the Beast? Or does the Beast corrupt the Beauty?' The photo showed her and Snape standing in Flourish and Blotts on Thursday afternoon. He was facing the camera and looming over her as he handed her a copy of Damage From the Dark, A Guide to Torturing the Mind. As she watched, the Hermione in the photo opened it, revealing the title to the observer. What made Hermione blink wasn't the book—he'd suggested it following their conversation that day in the Leaky—it was the look on his face as she bent closer and began to read. He smiled. Not a quirk of the lips, like she usually received, and not the superior smirk, that usually occurred when she'd let herself look foolish. It was an actual smile. A relaxed, happy smile.

"Good heavens," she said.

"Yeah, that's pretty much what we said," Ron muttered. "So… What's the story?"

Hermione looked up from the photo. Harry and Ron both showed concern, but her boys were waiting to get all the facts before they rushed to judgment. After a year on the run looking for Horcruxes, the three of them shared an understanding of each other that was uncanny sometimes. She smiled at them.

"There isn't a story." She waved the picture. "I admit it looks like there's a story, but it's just not true. I don't actually see Snape very often. This revision has been mostly just a correspondence course. He comes in to the office every once in a while because of his patents, and we'll go over things then, but other than that it's just owls back and forth. We met Thursday at the bookstore because I wanted advice on my DADA practical, and he had said there were several good books to choose from. That book…" She sighed. "Snape knows I would like to study Healing so I could maybe save people like my parents some day. That book has a lot of information on why the mind is so easily damaged. He's not corrupting me at all. As for the look on his face… I don't know what to say. I've never seen that smile before, I can tell you that much."

"Maybe he just had wind," said Ron. Hermione and Harry both looked at him. "What? People always say that when babies smile. It could have been the same thing."

"I think he must like being helpful," said Harry. "The camera just caught what he never wanted anyone to see. We know Snape ran deeper than we could ever tell. Honestly, think about it. Why is he helping you? There's nothing in it for him. Maybe all that Slytherin shite was a smokescreen."

"I think you might be pretty close to the truth there, Harry," she said.

She placed the picture on the table between them and they all watched him smile as she dived into the book again.

"Well," said Ron. "If he doesn't want anyone to know he's really a nice man, then he's got to be bloody furious right about now."

* * *

Snape was bloody furious. The owls had been dropping off Howlers ever since that damned picture had appeared in the morning paper the day before. He'd given up and simply left his kitchen window open and placed an Imperturbable on his lab door so he couldn't hear the constant cacophony of all the shrieking post that landed on his kitchen table.

The letters were irritating enough, but he was truly angry with himself. He'd allowed himself one fucking unguarded moment of pride in his student, and it had been caught on camera. Flitwick could fawn all over a bright pupil and no one accused him of being a lecher. Minerva had always been unstinting in both her pride and her praise. In all his years of teaching he had never shown a student even the slightest praise, except for the occasional public display of support for a Death Eater's child, and even then he had always prided himself on being both subtle and backhanded.

But one small moment of self-satisfaction and he'd not only shamed himself, but most likely ruined Granger's reputation as well. The whole point of this exercise was to give her a new start so she could find decent employment. Now her name was being dragged through the mud because he'd allowed himself to be proud of how hard she was trying to make silk out of the sow's ear the world had handed her.

It was more than likely the girl wasn't even aware of the scandal. He knew she never bothered with the papers. Certainly her annoying otter had sounded happy enough when it had scampered in and announced she was off to eat lunch with the Dubious Duo. He wondered at the timing of that. Her letters barely mentioned them, and he was sure she hadn't actually seen them since the Quidditch season had started up. Now they were all off to lunch together, while he hid from his own kitchen.

He swore vehemently and set about scrubbing down his workbench until he was interrupted by the chiming of his wards. His head came up and his eyes narrowed as he looked back up the basement steps.

He snatched open his front door with his wand at the ready, but dropped it when he saw who was standing there.

"Good afternoon, Minerva. This is unexpected. Do come in." He swung the door wide.

"Good afternoon, Severus. I thought I would finally take you up on that offer of tea."

"When was I foolish enough to do that?"

"I think it's been about six years, now, and you had been drinking."

He smirked and led her into his sitting room, shoving a pile of books onto the floor to make room.

He gave her a significant look and raised both of his eyebrows and said, "I'll go put the kettle on."

Another owl flew past the window and dropped another red envelope in the basket on the table and he zapped it with his wand, accidentally Vanishing the basket with his zeal. He arranged the tea things on a tray and added some Muggle ginger cake before carrying it all into the sitting room.

He placed the tray down on the low table in front of the couch and sat in his chair. "So tell me. What brings the Headmistress of Hogwarts to my humiliating abode? Come to beg me to accept a teaching position now that I'm famous for my tutoring?"

Minerva frowned. "You know I would have hired you if I could have, Severus. The Board of Governors wouldn't even let me finish my speech." She sat forward and poured two cups of tea, adding cream and sugar to both before passing him a cup. "I am not Albus, to assume I can run a game on you, you know very well why I am here."

"And yet, I have a need to hear it said out loud," he sneered.

"Very well. Why Hermione, Severus? It's not like you at all to help someone without some sort of personal gain."

"Is it not?"

"Don't play coy with me. You're far too Slytherin to do anything without a reason. In all my years of working with you, I've never seen you take a personal interest in a single student. Why now? Why Miss Granger?"

_"SEVERUS SNAPE! YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN KISSED! THEY SHOULD HAVE THROWN YOUR SOULLESS BODY FROM THE WALLS OF AZKABAN! YOU LEAVE THAT INNOCENT GIRL ALONE, OR I WILL COME HUNT YOU DOWN AND TAKE CARE OF YOU MYSELF!"_

Snape let the Howler run its course before he put up a Silencing Charm around them. "Does that about cover your sentiment, Minerva?"

"What on earth was that?" she asked, visibly shaken.

"My fan mail. I've been getting more than usual for the last two days. Not nearly as many as when I was pardoned, however."

"No, my boy, that does not cover my sentiment at all. I am not out for blood, just for clarity. You scored a direct hit when you made me realize that I had never bothered to find out why Miss Granger hadn't responded to the school. I will admit that along with having my hands full with the repairs and the incoming year, my pride might have been a little stung that none of the Golden Trio bothered to come back and finish their education at the school that had been nearly destroyed for them."

"For them?"

"Oh, all right, for all of us. But you can't say that Mr. Potter wasn't the main reason that the school was attacked."

"Yes, I can. I assure you, Minerva, had Potter died with his mother and father, the school would have fallen nearly twenty years ago. Because of students like Miss Granger." He set his tea down on the table and leaned closer.

"Minerva, I will explain myself this once in the simple terms you Gryffindors prefer. I did what I did to atone for something I caused when I was the same age Miss Granger is now. I did what I did so that students like Miss Granger could have a fighting chance in our world. I did what I did because it was the right thing to do, not for any insidious attempt at personal gain.

"I admit, when I first saw Miss Granger rusticating in that tiny little cell they call an office, I was highly amused. The girl had always been a pain in my arse. That doesn't mean I wasn't furious when I realized that this ludicrous job of hers was the very best she could hope for in our world. Even I can admit she represents the best of us. And the idea that she's been denied her future? I can accept that my ability to hold employment is nonexistent because of my actions and choices, but I didn't nearly die in that damned shack so that the best student we've seen in decades could just be a fucking Civil Servant."

"Well," said Minerva. "That explains things rather clearly." She set her cup down on the chipped saucer and gathered up her cloak but then stilled and turned to him. "Except for the smile. Severus, I can count on one hand the number of times I have seen you smile and have fingers left over. Are you sure there isn't something else you need to tell me?"

Severus scowled. "All that my unfortunate choice of facial expressions meant was that I've become rather proud of the way she's risen to the challenges set for her. Nothing more."

Minerva stared him down for a moment and then relented. "It's tragic really; it took you losing your job to realize how fulfilling teaching can be. You always were a perverse creature, Severus."

He snorted and stood up to show her to the door.

* * *

And him doing what he did had absolutely nothing to do with her being nice to him...

Ch'yuh


	4. Chapter 4

Snape sat in his kitchen with his booted feet up on the table and drank his brandy. He watched the full moon cross the sky over the forlorn clotheslines in the neighboring backyards, and wondered why he felt a knot of trepidation in his gut.

It simply wasn't like him. Granger was taking her first N.E.W.T. tomorrow, not him. Gods. He was so many years removed from this type of silly drama. He'd never cared this much when he'd been a teacher, unless it was to hope a student did badly enough on their O.W.L.s that he wouldn't have to see them in his classroom again.

He scowled and poured himself more brandy. Maybe he was just getting old and sentimental. The idea disgusted him. If Granger had used half of her brain, she could have been done with all this last summer when they let the other graduates sit their exams. Instead, he'd had to pick her up off the floor and drag her through finishing up something she'd been too stupid to research for herself.

He swallowed half his drink and snorted into his glass. Or maybe he is just an idiot who likes to lie to himself. He knew exactly why he was sitting here worried about the silly little girl. He'd known all along why he'd done all of it. The fact of the matter was Snape wouldn't have been arsed about the girl at all if she hadn't told him she liked him that first day in the patent office. Admired him, even.

Nobody living really liked Severus Snape. Respected him, perhaps, like Minerva, but like? Aside from Albus, only Lily had ever actually said she liked him and that had meant something special to him—even if "but only as a friend" was endlessly tacked on to the end.

Then, out of the blue, comes Granger, an irrational, slip of a girl with a twisted sense of humor, and a confusing mix of strength and fragility. She joked with him, teased him, challenged him, and then, just when he was thoroughly confused, she would suddenly show him a profound respect that had been sorely missing since he'd nearly had his throat ripped out.

These long months, he'd actually had someone he'd considered a friend. Just a friend, despite what the papers wanted to twist it into. The idea of them being anything more was just absurd, and didn't deserve the energy it took to deny it.

He drank the other half of his brandy and sloshed some more into the glass, just as the Hercules came and perched in the open window and daintily stuck out his foot.

"What did you do, get lost? Come over here, I'm too tired to come to you." The owl chirruped and hopped across the table to him. He untied the note and gestured to the perch.

He'd never bothered to get an owl of his own, and so it wasn't until this poor blighter started to show up at his window that he'd finally installed a perch. The overworked bastard had to deal with Granger sending up to four notes in a night sometimes.

He broke the seal and unfolded the parchment before picking up his drink again.

'_Dear Mr. Snape,_

_I can't do it. I know I will be letting you down, but I just cannot go back to Hogwarts tomorrow and take that first exam. I will make a fool of myself and humiliate you. Tomorrow is Transfiguration. I had everything down, I really did, but this evening it's just gone. All of it. I can't transfigure a single thing. I've been at it for hours now and I'm a complete wreck._

_Everyone knows that you have been helping me. If I go in there tomorrow, I will shame you. I will destroy your reputation and turn you into a laughingstock._

_If I simply don't show up, then everyone will think I am just an ungrateful cow and it will be no reflection on you at all. You see? I think it's sound logic. _

_I cannot stress enough how much it means to me that you have put yourself out in this way, for a student you couldn't begin to give a damn about, no less. I hope this little setback won't stop you from mentoring others on the future. You are a marvelous teacher and a wonderful human being._

_Which is why I can't go there tomorrow and have them think that my utter lack of ability is in any way connected to you._

_I do hope you understand._

_You have my undying gratitude for the time you have taken with me, and I promise, this is my last owl._

_Yours,_

_Hermione J. Granger.'_

He stared at the parchment and heaved a sigh. Clearly, the girl was an idiot.

"You'd better spend the night. She'll work you to death in this state," he said to the bird. A relieved trill was his reply. He dragged his heavy boots off the table with a thud and flicked the window closed with his wand. He warded it and finished his brandy, before he carefully set the glass down and wandered off to bed.

* * *

Hermione woke to her alarm shrieking, her cat nagging, and her owl scratching at her window. She scrambled out from under the covers and raced to the window, handing the owl a treat before untying the note attached to its leg. She hurriedly unfolded the letter and saw, 'Then don't…' written in the familiar, spidery script that always made her feel better. She sighed and pressed the note to her forehead before turning to her cat and smiling.

"He really is marvelous, Crooks."

She dropped the note on the bed and hurried off to jump in the shower to get ready for her first test.

* * *

Hermione walked through the gates of Hogwarts for the first time in nearly two years, fighting back nausea and clutching two little words in her hand. She could do this. Logic dictated there was no way she could fail if she did so well on the pretest. Surely she'd only improved her grade since, with all of her cramming and studying. And besides, it didn't really matter to anyone but herself. That was what Snape had shown her that day he'd brought the test, and it was what he'd reminded her of this morning with his terse reply to her mortifying display of night-before jitters.

She clutched her note tighter and lifted up her chin as she headed up the steps and saw Professor McGonagall waiting for her with a smile.

* * *

Hermione exploded through the doors of The Three Broomsticks with a shout that was quickly answered by Harry and Ron. They let out loud whoops as they came pounding up, and they whirled her in circles, as they took turns hugging her.

"I assume from the smile you did well on Arithmancy and Ancient Runes?" Harry asked.

"Go on, Harry, you know she aced it. This is Hermione we're talking about."

"I did well enough for me, and that's all that matters," she said smugly.

Harry stopped and stared at her. "Whoa. Where did this new attitude come from? I like it."

"Oh, a certain snide professor finally managed to pound it into my needy little ego."

"Speaking of, I would have thought he'd be here already," said Ron. "We invited him to join our little celebration."

"You did?" she asked excitedly, craning her head around the bar. There were a lot of people in the place for a Friday afternoon, but she didn't see any tall wizards in black. "Did he reply?"

"Well, no," Ron said.

"Oh. Then he's probably not coming," she said. "He doesn't like to go out in public much. He hasn't even met with me outside of my job since his smile made the papers. I'll send him an owl when I get home and let him know how I did."

"You might want to write that letter now," said Ron. "We won't be fit for much by the time we're done celebrating."

Harry laughed. "Ron here had been planning this for weeks. Be advised, along with us getting horrendously drunk, he's planning on dragging us all off to get tattoos."

"Oh, good lord," said Hermione.

* * *

His feet were up on the table, as usual, but the boots had come off, and the brandy glass had been emptied for the last time, hours before. Hercules landed on the sill, and his chirruping hoot disturbed the sound of his snores, but not his sleep. The little owl hopped around the empty bottle and pecked at the man's knee, before flapping back out of the way.

A bloodshot eye opened and pinned the bird with a baleful stare before sliding away and looking at the clock. It was half past three in the morning.

The bird hooted mournfully and stuck its foot out.

"Do _not_ expect pity," came the rumbling voice.

Snape sat up and twisted his head around on his neck to try and work out the kink. He leaned forward and untied the note and gestured towards the perch. He lifted his wand and filled the brandy glass with water and drank deeply before he tore the seal off the note.

_Dear Severus,_

_Yes, I'm going to call you Severus. I call all of my friends by their first names, and I simply don't see the point of continuing to address you in any manner other than truthfully. I am not always truthful to myself, but I am unstintingly truthful to those I care about. You are my friend._

_Okay. Moving on._

_I have a new tattoo! It's wonderful and represents my new self. I can't wait for you to see it. No, wait. You can't see it. Well, anyway. It's very 'me'. Or the new me, at any rate._

_As you must have already surmised, I'm done. I know I did well, thanks to you. And you would have known I did well had you bothered to show up at my small but happy little party. It was just Harry and Ron at first, but then George showed up and Neville. _

_Do you remember Neville? He killed that fucking snake, you know. Fucking snake. Did you know I was there? We were hiding. I know you saw Harry, but I'm not sure you knew I was there as well. You were still a bad man at that point, but I was so sickened to see you subjected to such horror. I thought you were dead. I swear, we all thought we'd seen you die. Gods, what a fucked up way to go. A snail! Snail? I mean snake. Whatever. But it was just the potion you took. You're so clever. You are marvelous. Have I said that yet? I know I tell you all the time, but I mean it. These last few weeks have been really important to me. No one, besides Harry and Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys, come to think of it, really gives a fiddler's fart about me, except for you. I do hope you understand that I think you are marvelous. I also think I am about to be sick. Hold that thought._

_Righto. I'm back and I feel much better. I should probably take some Soberup potion, but I think it is probably out of date. I can't remember the last time I went out drinking. Where was I? Oh, I don't know what I am talking about anymore. I will write to you again when I'm not spinning so fast and give you all the gory details. _

_Oh! One more thing! Minerva offered to let me be in the graduation ceremony. I think I will. Would you be there? You are really one of the only people I care about these days and I would love to have you be there._

_Okay. I need to vom again, so I will just sign off._

_Love you,_

_Hermione_

Snape read the letter through four times before he finally pushed away from the table. Clearly, the girl was still an idiot.

* * *

The sun was bright in the sky and Hogwarts looked like a festive jewel with its brightly colored banners streaming in the breeze, as Hermione headed towards the Quidditch pitch for the commencement. She and Harry walked along in a sea of ginger as the Weasley clan moved _en masse _to watch the youngest member graduate.

They all wished her well, and Harry gave her an extra squeeze as she split off to go take her seat behind the graduating class. She waved and blew a kiss to Ginny when she caught her eye, but didn't see the one person she wanted to see the most.

Mr. Snape had sent his best wishes for her future, and a hangover remedy, after she'd finished up her exams a week ago, but she hadn't heard from him since. She'd continued to send the odd note here and there, it seemed strange to suddenly have no reason to correspond, but had received no replies.

She knew Harry, Ron, and all the Weasleys were very proud of her, but she also knew they were really here for Ginny. It sounded so silly when she actually thought about it, but the fact was, she missed her parents desperately and wished she had someone here for just her.

The ceremony finally got underway and Hermione listened attentively, as Minerva spoke about the changes the year had wrought and the bright shiny futures awaiting in the Wizarding world for this latest class of graduates. The Minister spoke next, followed by Pascal Richter, from the Board of Governors, who droned on until the crowd fell into a stupor. By the time they started to call up the graduates, Hermione was having trouble keeping her eyes open. They'd only made it halfway through the H's when her head snapped up at the sound of muttering and whispering. She looked around but thankfully, no one seemed to care that she had fallen asleep. She made a concerted effort to follow along, loudly cheering for Luna, but lost track again, somewhere in the M's.

She woke when a deep, male voice murmured in her ear, "Bad form, Granger. At least cast a Silencing Charm if you're going to snore." She spun so fast she smashed her cheekbone into his nose.

"You came!" she whispered excitedly when she saw him sitting directly behind her holding his nose and scowling. "I'm so glad to see you! I was looking everywhere when I got here!"

"Obviously, I came. I was trying to be discreet, something you are obviously incapable of. Now turn around and stop making a scene, you foolish little girl."

She stuck her tongue out at him and turned around, grinning like a fool. She turned to the student next to her, a Hufflepuff she barely remembered, who was staring at her in alarm, and proudly said, "That's my tutor!"

She heard an irritated sigh from behind her and giggled. She clapped loud and long when Ginny's name was called and after a few more students, that year's class was done.

McGonagall raised a hand and called for silence from the jubilant crowd.

"It is my honor, indeed an honor for all of us, to include in this year's class, a student from the House of Gryffindor, who finished her coursework after a long delay due to our recent conflict. I am very proud to announce she received an Outstanding in all eleven of the N.E.W.T.s she sat for. This is an amazing achievement, and will stand as a benchmark for all of our students in future years. I am very proud to present to you, Hermione Jean Granger."

Hermione's face froze in its nervous smile as she realized what the Headmistress had said. Eleven Outstandings. She took a breath and stood up and smiled at the man behind her, looking as dyspeptic as usual. He nodded to her and then flicked a glance at the waiting crowd on the stage. She turned and walked up to the podium amidst the shouting of the Weasleys and the applause of the crowd.

She shook hands with McGonagall and then threw her arms around her. Hagrid snatched her up with his hug, and she nearly trampled Flitwick when she landed back on her feet. She hugged each and every one of her former teachers, wiping tears from her eyes the whole time. Then she turned and pumped her fist into the air, clutching her diploma and the students joined in, throwing their pointed hats into the air and screaming.

She jumped down from the podium and raced back towards her seat but ran around her row and made for Snape. His eyes grew wider as she neared and she laughed at how terrified he looked when she threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. She felt him pat at her shoulders and squeezed him harder. Letting go, she scrambled into her seat for the last speech before the commencement was over.

As all the students all raced around in search of their families, Hermione turned around and smiled at her mentor and friend. "Please say you're coming to the Burrow for the party. It won't be a big crowd, just friends and family."

He gave her a pained expression and shook his head. "I think not." He stepped up closer to her and shook her hand. "Congratulations, Miss Granger. Eleven Outstandings is an amazing achievement. Never forget what you have done. It has been a rare pleasure to watch you take charge of your life. Enjoy it now." He gave her hand a small squeeze and stepped back.

"Thank you, Mr. Snape," she said—calling him Severus was a lot easier to do on parchment while pickled. "Thank you for everything."

He smirked at her and replied, "You are very welcome, Miss Granger. But don't lose sight of the fact that you basically did this by yourself. I merely facilitated the process."

He bowed his head to her and turned away, quickly disappearing into the crowd. She sighed and lifted up on her toes to find the knot of redheads in the crowd.

* * *

Hermione woke up to a pounding headache that turned into a pounding at her door. She punched her arms through the sleeves of her dressing gown and made her way to the door, calling, "Who's there?"

"It's Ginny!"

Hermione dropped her wards and pulled open the door. "I would love to say it's great to see you, but I just saw you," she turned to look at the clock, "five hours ago. What got you up so early?"

"Mum, did. She wanted me to be with you when you saw this. She figured Harry and Ron would just freak and make things worse." Ginny pulled out the Morning Edition of the Daily Prophet and handed it to her. "I'll go make some tea. You'd better sit down."

Hermione gave Ginny a questioning look and followed her into the kitchenette and sat at the small table. She unfolded the paper and looked at the headline.

**Scandal at School!**

Hogwarts Allows Snape's Young Lover to Steal the Show.

Public Outcry Spawns Investigation.

"What the hell is this?" Hermione said.

She looked down the page to the accompanying photographs. Her eyebrows flew up as she watched Snape lean in close and whisper something in her ear. In the picture, she turned her head slowly until it looked like they were kissing. The image cut off right away and then repeated.

"They slowed that shot down! I was snoring, and he was telling me to wake up! We weren't kissing!"

"We know," Ginny said. "Bill saw it happen and had a good laugh over Snape getting smashed in the nose."

Hermione looked back down with tears in her eyes. Another photo showed her throwing herself at him, you couldn't see his face in the shot, and then there was one of her by herself, standing on the podium holding her diploma over her head. "Oh my God. I'm going to be sick," she said. "What is there to investigate? I don't understand."

Ginny set the teapot on the table and rummaged through the cupboards for mugs. "The story says that they suspect you and Snape of cheating on the test somehow. That there was no way you could have earned those grades yourself after being out of school for so long and completely missing your seventh year. Dad Flooed Kingsley, and he said it's bollocks. No one ordered an investigation, but unfortunately, they probably will now. That's the way things go. If the Minister doesn't investigate, then it will look like some kind of cover-up, especially since he's still getting bad press for pardoning Snape to begin with.

Hermione scanned the Headlines again and found herself staring at the photograph of him leaning in to whisper in her ear. It was taken from just over his left shoulder, and you couldn't see either of their faces. It was mesmerizing. Even knowing the truth, the picture was a titillating masterpiece of manipulation.

"Gods, Gin, this makes _me_ think I kissed him. He'll never speak to me again. He must be so humiliated. I'm such an idiot. I should never have asked him to come."

"Well, it's done now. We just have to figure out how to get through this."

* * *

Ugh, no good deed...


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Okay, Mrs. Le, that should keep you happy until I finish making lunch!

* * *

It was two weeks later when a message arrived from the Minister's office asking her to appear for questioning. She sighed, set aside her job applications, shut up her office, and headed for the lift.

She made her way to the room on the fourth floor and knocked on the door she had been directed to. The door opened and she was immediately blinded by a flash bulb. "I warned you before, Mr. Bozo. If you do not desist, I will have you escorted out of the room," growled the Minister, as Hermione blinked spots out of her eyes.

Around a large table sat Kingsley Shackelbolt, Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Septima Vector, three people she didn't know, two people she recognized as proctors for the exams, Pascal Richter, from the school board, and at the end of the table, Snape, Rita Skeeter, and a smirking photographer.

One of the men she didn't know stood up. "Thank you for coming, Miss Granger. I'm Fletcher Miles, with me are Phyllis Pringle and Alden Grublebush." The other two people nodded in turn. "The Minister has asked the Wizengamot to adjudicate this complaint, and so we are here to see if there is any wrong doing. Our job is to either dismiss this matter, or, if there is cause, take it further. Please take a seat."

Hermione took the seat indicated, between McGonagall and the Minister and darted a nervous glance around the room. The Headmistress and her former teachers gave her reassuring nods. Kingsley looked like he had swallowed a toad. Skeeter looked like she was about to watch an execution and had forgotten her popcorn. The members of the Wizengamot looked suitably inscrutable. And Snape… He looked completely blank as he stared at his hands on the table in front of him. He didn't look up at her once.

"Miss Granger," Mr. Miles started. "Mr. Snape has refused to answer any questions, nor do we have the authority to force him to do so at this time. We have heard from your teachers about their opinion of your abilities. We have also spoken with the Proctors and are satisfied that there was no observable wrong doing, and no change in the usual protocols taken with the tests, and that at no time did the tests leave their hands from the moment the students turned them in, to the time they were graded. The only question that remains is the possibility of Magical means to enhance your grades, or perhaps even the possible use of Polyjuice and that it was Severus Snape that actually took the test for you."

Her head snapped up and her mouth dropped open. "That's ridiculous!" she blurted. "Why on earth would he have done something like that? Why would you even think that? That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard!"

"Nevertheless, Miss Granger, it has come to our attention that the only difference in your behavior that your former teachers noticed, was an almost preternatural calm, that we have been informed was uncharacteristic for you under normal testing conditions. Would you care to explain?"

"I-I…" She stared about the room and saw her teachers look down at the table in shame. "I'm older now," she said. She looked at Snape, but he didn't seem aware of her at all. She set her shoulders. "I used to be afraid of people finding me lacking if I didn't prove myself. I'm not really like that anymore. Well, mostly not. I _was_ terrified to take that first test. But Mr. Snape calmed my nerves that morning, and after that it was easy."

"If I may?" asked Rita Skeeter. "After all, I do represent the interest of the public, and this is an informal hearing…" She waited until Mr. Miles consulted with the other two, and then nodded his allowance. "What time did you have to leave your home in London in order to arrive at the school on time that first day?"

"I left my home at seven in the morning and Apparated from an alley down the street."

"So it is safe to assume, if Mr. Snape reassured you, it was because he had spent the night? Tutoring you, perhaps?"

"No!" Hermione spat. She settled when McGonagall bumped her leg with the toe of her shoe. "I'd sent him an owl the night before expressing my doubts about how well I would do, and he sent me a reply in the morning. I received the owl at around half-past five in the morning."

"Isn't that rather early?"

"No, that is when I usually get up."

"So Mr. Snape is aware of your usual waking schedule?" asked Skeeter, with a triumphant gleam in her eye.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the atrocious woman. "While I was revising, I would frequently send him an owl in the morning before I left for work, and again in the evening after I got home. I'm sure he could have easily extrapolated the needed information from my pattern of behavior. You are implying an aspect to my relationship with Mr. Snape that might sell papers for you, but simply does not exist. I assure you, he was nothing more than my mentor, and I am nothing more to him than an irritating, and occasionally amusing, swot."

The teachers at the table chuckled and nodded to each other, making her ears burn.

"And yet," continued Skeeter, "if there was nothing more to this relationship, why did you get a tattoo of some words in Mr. Snape's handwriting? Isn't that a little extreme for a mere student? You can't deny it, even if the location is, shall we say, too delicate to show us. I have a sworn statement from the tattoo artist you and your friends went to. He not only remembered your conversation, but as a former student himself, recognized the handwriting he was asked to duplicate."

Hermione blanched as every head on the room swiveled towards her. She darted her eyes towards Snape and saw open shock on his face. She curled her fists in frustrated anger and felt humiliated tears spring into her eyes.

"You nasty cow," she hissed "It's not like that! That was something personal to me, and I have no intention of explaining it to anyone." Hermione turned and looked at the members of the Wizengamot. "I will not answer anymore questions from this disgusting woman."

Madame Pringle cleared her throat before asking, "Miss Granger, can you explain to us why a student who missed her last year of schooling, and did not return when the other students who missed their opportunity did—who in fact, didn't even begin to study for these tests until early February of this year—would receive _eleven_ Outstandings? Surely you can see that it is suspicious, to say the least?"

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but another voice cut in.

"I can answer that," said Snape. "You have been shown Miss Granger's school records. You have seen the test she took with no preparation at all, that would have brought her three Outstandings, seven Exceeds Expectations, one Acceptable, and one Troll in a subject she dropped in her second year, after eighteen months away from an academic environment. You have been told of how she solved a logic puzzle that was intended to keep full grown adults from accessing a part of the castle in her first year. You have been told how she successfully brewed a seventh-year potion in her second year. You have been told how she was allowed the use of a Time Turner in her third year, so she could continue to take every class available. You have heard how she had been constantly referred to as the Brightest Witch of Her Age throughout her entire school career, and you are fully aware that it was in part through Miss Granger's intelligence, loyalty and determination, that Potter was able to defeat the Dark Lord. It is blindingly obvious to all of us who taught her, that Miss Granger is a genius. Combine her intellect, with her willpower, and add in her competitiveness, and you easily get a student that can master the needed curriculum in less than six months.

"This argument is spurious," he continued. "Every year, home schooled students who never set foot in Hogwarts are allowed to sit their exams, and no one questions their grades. I assure you, my assistance to Miss Granger was minimal. I facilitated her inclusion in this year's exams, and I pointed her in the needed direction when she couldn't find the necessary information. At no time did I teach Miss Granger anything that she didn't already know. I simply affirmed, or negated, her own research. I was a mere academic advisor, and to imply anything more—even in light of her own bizarre concept of permanent reminders—is to shame yourselves and belittle the abilities of a girl who is quite likely the most gifted student we've seen in several generations."

Snape never lifted his head from the table, during his speech. He didn't see how her tears spilled over and ran down her face, or how McGonagall reached over and squeezed her hand and smiled, to add emphasis to his assessment of her abilities, while Vector and Flitwick nodded vigorously beside her. When he was done talking, he simply folded his hands and nodded as well.

The room was silent for a time and then the third member of the Wizengamot spoke.

"It would seem to me, that the easiest way to clear this matter up is to arrange for Miss Granger to take her tests again under more controlled conditions. If she again makes the marks she made before, then she will have proven herself beyond a doubt. I propose we retest next week—after first checking for the presence of Dark Magic, ensuring there is no evidence of Polyjuice, and no contact with anyone at all between now and then. I think we should sequester Miss Granger with her textbooks until the appointed time."

Hermione's blood started to boil as it finally became apparent that all of this was not about her at all, but about Snape. She stood up.

"No," she said quietly. "Mr. Snape was wrong when he said he didn't teach me anything I didn't already know. Do you know what he taught me that no one else could have? That I don't have to prove myself to anyone but myself. That I don't have to do anything I don't want to. He taught me that nothing else matters, as long as I feel I am doing the right thing. I will not take those tests for you again. I know that I took them. I know I earned those grades. My teachers know I did. And my friends know I did. I don't have to prove it to you. I don't have to prove it to anyone else."

She turned and walked toward the door but stopped and turned back. "And another thing. If I had been shagging Severus Snape the whole time I revised for that exam, it would have made no difference in my grade and would be no one's business but our own. I don't give a damn what any of you think. You people make me sick. I'm done with this."

She nodded to the Minister, and to her former teachers, bowed her head to Snape, who was looking at her with a mixture of surprise as well as an unidentified emotion on his face, before she turned on her heel and walked out of the room.

When she returned to her office, she lifted up her stack of job applications, carefully filled out with a copy of her N.E.W.T. results attached to all twenty-seven, and burst into tears.

* * *

Severus Snape was passed out at his kitchen table. One arm was curled around an empty bottle of brandy, and the other one dangled towards the floor at his side. Next to his head, a torn bit of newspaper fluttered with each flammable breath. The paper showed a photograph of a dark-hired man leaning in and whispering in a woman's ear, as she slowly turned towards him. Their faces were obscured, but the image conveyed a sensuality that was spellbinding. Even to those who knew it had never happened.

* * *

Snape entered the Office of Potion Patent Applications and stopped, looking around at the room. It had been almost three months since he had been here last. He'd decided to come today on the spur of the moment, knowing he'd never do it if he left it to get much more onerous in his mind.

He let the door swing closed behind him with a click that was far too loud in the empty room.

Everything looked like an ode to entropy. Most of the plants that had filled the room before, had died from lack of care. The walls, carpeting and desks were all in a state of Charm Decay—their original colors and textures starting to show through the improvements Miss Granger had implemented. It left one with a feeling of abandonment that he tried to stifle.

On the desk, sat two clipboards and a sign, instructing him to choose the correct one for processing and to leave it on the counter when he left. It seemed the Ministry had finally caught on that anyone could do this job in fifteen minutes at the end of a day, and they hadn't bothered to replace Miss Granger.

He lifted up the proper form and contemplated walking to the cafeteria to fill it out. This room was too depressing. In the end, he decided here was as good as anywhere. At least he wouldn't be stared at like he usually was when he went out on public.

He was about ten minutes into the form—explaining the uses of his Larynx Regenerator—when the door opened again. He looked up at the distraction and froze, before springing to his feet.

"Miss Granger? What are you doing here?"

She stopped short, looking up from the book she'd been reading as she walked in.

"Mr. Snape! Filing a new potion?" Her small smile upon seeing him, quickly faded.

"So it would seem. I asked you a question, Miss Granger. Why are you here?"

She frowned and turned away from him, and it struck him that she looked as faded as the room. His stomach clenched in anger as he saw her make her way to the other side of the counter, set her book down, and tilt her chin up defensively before she met his eyes.

"I think we have established that I work here on several occasions before, and I don't care to be repetitive."

He stormed up to the counter. "Why?" he hissed. "Don't pretend you misunderstand me. Why are you still here?"

He watched a bright spark of fury ignite in her eyes before it, too, faded. She reached down and pulled open an unseen drawer before placing a bundle of parchment, tied with string, on the counter before him.

"What's this?" he asked.

"At last count, this is the fifty-two politely-worded explanations as to why I am considered unqualified, unfit, undesirable, or otherwise inconvenient for employment, which I received before I stopped sending out applications. There are fourteen more that I have yet to hear from." She prodded the bundle with a finger. "You can read them if you like. Some of them are rather amusing."

"No, thank you. I will forgo the honor. I have a similar stack at home." He grimaced and ran a hand through his hair to try and calm his reaction before he made a fool of himself. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "So they hung you out to dry after all? What about Minerva?"

"The Board of Governors vetoed her acceptance of my apprenticeship, citing my moral character. The new rules implemented by the Ministry after the tenures of Dumbledore and yourself, have tied her hands quite firmly. Those strings she pulled trying to help are among those letters I have yet to hear a reply to. I suspect they don't want to insult her by refusing to hire me outright."

His stomach felt like it was full of lead, and he poked the stack with his own finger before saying, "I'm very sorry, Miss Granger."

"Don't be. I'm not. I don't regret anything." She waved a hand about the room. "This isn't the end for me. I'm just biding my time. The exchange rate between the Wizarding world and the Muggle one works in my favor. My plan is to horde my salary as much as possible over the next year and then leave this world and start over in the Muggle one. I want to move to Australia. I hear there is a dental practice with two lovely people that might need an office assistant. I happen to know they are suckers for a hard-luck story."

"You're going to leave?" he asked. "What about Potter and Weasley? You would just leave them behind as well?"

"Ron and Harry will always be my friends. They support my decision. I'll still write to them and visit occasionally, nothing will change there."

"You're quitting," he snapped. "Why would you do this?"

She laughed. "I'll show you."

She shocked him when she started to unbutton her robes as she came back around the counter. He quickly backed up several feet before taking two steps closer as she pulled open her robes, revealing a Muggle t-shirt and jeans. She pulled up the shirt a few inches and hooked a thumb into her waistband, tugging it down.

There, on her smooth, white belly, were the words "Then don't…" written in his hand in black ink.

His mouth went dry.

"Why am I doing this? Because I can. There's nothing left for me here but a lifetime of trying to prove myself to people who don't even want to give me a chance. I don't have to. You showed me that."

He lifted a finger to trace the words but snatched his hand back when he realized what he was about to do. He looked up at her, as her words finally filtered past the fact that she was permanently marked with his hand. He smiled. Her eyes widened and he smiled even more. He stepped back and gestured for her to fix her clothing.

"You are a remarkable young woman, Miss Granger. I applaud your reasoning."

"Good. I'm glad." She buttoned up her robes and headed back around the counter. "I've been meaning to speak with you, by the way. I have been going over your patent information." When she saw his scowl, she fluttered a hand at him. "I know, I've been snooping. But you must have a good idea of just how boring it is in here. Anyway, are you aware your patents are coming due for renewal? Some of your earliest, have already lapsed due to inaction, and permanently become public domain. But you have eight patents coming due this year alone." She smirked at him and leaned in closer across the counter. "If you were to fill out the proper forms, not only will you continue to hold the patent for the next twenty years, but you will be able to renegotiate the terms. For instance, if you wanted to switch from lease-free public domain back to private, now is the time to do it. If, at a later date, you chose to switch them back to public domain again you could do that at any time. Interesting, isn't it? Not only would people be forced to realize how much better their lives have been because of you these last twenty years, but you would become an incredibly wealthy man, nearly overnight."

He looked at her with a smirk. "You're a very vindictive person, Granger."

"Just copped on to that? You're looking at the girl who set your robes on fire when she thought you were cursing her friend's broom in her first year."

"That was you? I had no idea."

She gave him a level stare. "No. You really have no idea."

"Miss Granger. If I had wanted the money, I wouldn't have marked them public domain twenty years ago. I intended those potions to be used to help alleviate some of the damage I did with the choices I made in my life."

"Yes, and I see that's worked out so well for you. I won't try to talk you into doing something that goes against your nature. I'm just talking about a slight tug on the traces to let them know just how much power you've had and restrained from using."

"I won't change the status of those potions that are a matter of life and death."

"I wouldn't even suggest it."

"I'd need help filling out the proper forms and dealing with the subsequent contractual terms. I have no patience with that sort of thing."

She reached under the counter and pulled out a thick envelope addressed to him and dropped it on the counter. "Done and done. They just need your signature."

"I would need to organize my own production facility if I was going to take over brewing my potions for the public."

"If you need help, I have free time."

"Not enough." He looked at her and felt his stomach clench at the next words out of his mouth. "I would need to hire an Apprentice. At least for the next year."

Her face flushed and her eyes started to shine.

"I know a genius that you might be interested in considering."

"Indeed. How soon could this genius start?"

"Now?" she squeaked.

"Nonsense, we need to fill out an Apprentice Application and you need to research and design your contract. You might as well let the Ministry pay you to do that while I finish this patent application."

"Alright! I'll go do that right now," she said, dashing towards the door. She stopped with her hand on the doorframe and turned back. "Have I ever told you how marvelous you are?"

"_Ad nauseam_," he replied.

* * *

At exactly nine in the morning the next day, Snape opened the door and was greeted by a dying Fiddler Ficus, a decayed variegated ivy, and the world's ugliest cuckoo clock.

"You must be joking," he said to the plant in his face.

"You offered me a job," replied the plant. "These come with the package. You saved me, now I have to save them."

"Don't make me regret this, Granger."

"You won't. I promise."

He swung the door open wider and she waltzed in past him. From the back, she looked like a walking backpack with frizzy hair and a long, Indian-print skirt.

"What else have you brought?"

"Mostly paperwork. I figured the first order of business is to work on our contract and then figure out what patents you want to snatch back first. I say your improved Veritaserum. It's patent expires in two weeks and re-assuming control won't harm anyone but the Aurors, and they'll be quick to pay up. The old formula was hopelessly flawed. I researched it last night."

"Of course you did. I wonder what the papers would say if they knew you were such a bad influence on me."

She giggled as he closed the door.

* * *

What do you think? Will he regret it?


	6. Chapter 6

AN: For some reason ff.n won't let me reply to my reviews or Private Messages. I am sure it will clear up soon. I probably just made them dizzy with all thses chapters. Until then, thank you!

* * *

The cuckoo clock began to squawk at noon and was quickly smashed off the wall by a hex. It was just as quickly repaired again.

"Are you seriously going to do that every hour, on the hour?" she asked, in a huff, as she stuffed her wand back into her sleeve.

"Yes," he replied without looking up from his patent forms.

She rolled her eyes and went back to her contract.

"It says here that I must turn over any new potions I develop in the next year for you to patent in your name. That's not fair."

"Then leave it out of the contract," he replied distractedly. "Why are you still reading those ancient books? We've already negotiated your salary and percentages for the next year, what more is there to decide?"

"But this history of apprenticeship is so fascinating and I don't want to miss something that might be important. For instance, it says I am entitled to a mug of ale, a heel of bread with cheese and a pallet on the floor near the fire. Oh, and meat once a week. That could save me some rent."

He lifted up his head and looked at her with annoyed irritation and then flicked his wand at his pantry. A loaf of white bread drifted over and he snatched it open and lobbed the end piece at her. "I'm out of ale," he said with a sneer.

"You shop at Tesco's? And where's my cheese?" She bit into the slice of bread.

"What's wrong with Tesco's? And don't tempt me. I have a rind of old Parmesan that would leave a lump between your eyes."

She giggled again and swallowed before she choked. "You just never struck me as the type to shop at a Muggle grocers. I can't picture you doing something as mundane as pushing a trolley."

"Yes, well, the Ministry frowns on charming them where Muggles can see. As you have already noted, the exchange rate is in our favor. Muggle food is cheaper. Now get back to work."

She stared at him for a while with a small smile on her face before she dipped her head back down to her books.

"Do you have any idea how many regulations there were in the fifteenth century pertaining to how often an apprentice is obliged to provide sexual favors for their master? There is a whole section on when it is considered inappropriate to drink man dew…"

"Granger…" he growled.

She giggled again and went back to work.

* * *

Hermione heard the knock at the door and hurried to set the bowls of snacks in her hands down on the table before she answered it.

Ginny gave her a huge hug and two bottles of wine as she whirled passed. Harry pecked her on the cheek and carried the Indian take-away into the kitchen to be reheated later, and Ron walked in carrying a smile and hugged her tight before running over and picking up the remote on her telly. His newest addiction was Robot Wars, and she recorded the episodes he missed while training or away for a game.

The wine was opened, and glasses were poured and passed around, as they filled each other in on the mundane happenings of the past few weeks.

"So, Gin, are you still planning on beating the pants off of Chudley single-handedly next week? I have to admit, I haven't been this excited to see a game in forever. I have no idea who to root for between you all."

"Root for the Harpies. Ginny's gonna need all the help she can get," said Ron around a mouthful of crisps.

"I can't wait," said Ginny. "This is going to be so much fun! Humiliating my brother _and_ teaching Harry who's going to be wearing the trousers in this relationship from here on in. How much fun is a girl allowed?"

Harry laughed and swept his arm around her and pecked her on the cheek. "Which reminds me," he said digging into his shirt pocket. "Here you go." He handed her two tickets to the game between the Canons and the Harpies.

"Oh great! But why two? Are you still holding out the hopeless notion that I can find a date at a moment's notice?"

"Well," said Ron. "Maybe not for a romantic dinner for two, but surely you could find someone for a Quidditch match. There's lots of blokes out there that are shallow enough."

"So true," said Ginny. "Like you for instance." She turned away from her brother in disgust. "You don't have to bring a date, Hermione, just bring a friend."

"Bring Snape," said Harry. "I'd love to see him there."

Hermione laughed. "You have got to be kidding me. I can see the look on his face right now when I ask him. Then again, he thinks I'm half demented already, what's the harm?"

"Is he still trying to destroy your clock every hour?" Harry asked.

"Absolutely. I started silencing it when I leave work, or I have to find all the pieces when I come back."

"Have you tried charming it to make another sound?"

"Yeah, that was the first thing I tried. I had it play Opera. Tosca, as a matter of fact. I'd have thought someone like Snape would love Opera."

"Not so much?" said Ginny with a laugh.

"Not so much," Hermione replied.

"Have you considered giving in and Silencing the thing?" asked Harry.

"Not on your life," she said. "It's way too much fun."

Harry smiled at her and leaned in and patted her knee. "It's good to see you having fun again."

"Here, here," said Ron without turning his face from the screen.

"So how is work, aside from fun," asked Ginny.

"It's actually been insane, since the orders started coming in. Next week will be even more fun when they realize Snape holds the patent to the improved Pepperup as well. That's when I'm sure it will make the papers. I already wrote a press statement."

Ginny shook her head. "You do realize they will rip you apart in the press again, once the public finds out you're working for the man that has all of their gonads in a vice?"

Hermione smiled wickedly. "I know."

Ron turned his head and looked at her then laughed. "She's scary, that one."

"Aren't I? Snape says I'm highly disturbing."

"Really?" he said in surprise. "You even creep Snape out? Excellent!"

"How long are you going to hold Pepperup hostage?" asked Harry.

"I think a day or two at the most. Anyone can brew the old formula in their kitchen, but when they find out it's just not as good…" She shrugged innocently. "There's no way we could ever take over sole production, and people might actually do something stupid if we let it work up too much momentum. I think if we time it right, they will just be taking that deep lungful of breath to start screaming when we cut the legs out from under them by turning it back to public domain and pretending it was a paperwork error. I'm sure at that point some intrepid reporter will go look into what other patents he owns and that's when it will really get fun."

"How much fun have you been having?" asked Ginny, pouring more wine. "Is this much fun legal?"

"It's ridiculously fun," Hermione replied with a giggle. "Last week I accidentally ingested Veritaserum, and he actually cackled as he grilled me on all the dreadful things we got up to in school."

"That's awful!" cried Ginny. "He could have asked you personal questions, and you'd have been at his mercy!"

Hermione shook her head. "He'd never do that. Threaten it, yes, but he's too much of a gentleman."

"You sound like you fancy him," said Ron.

"Of course I do! I realized that three weeks ago. I think the world of him. Not that he'd notice. He's been too busy brewing. Just as well. It's probably just an overreaction to how happy I am now. Hero worship taken to an extreme. Best not to make an idiot of myself. He doesn't deal well with idiots."

"So there's no chance he'd return your feelings?" asked Ginny.

"Oh, do be serious. Snape fancy me?"

"Why not?" said Ron defensively. "You're a catch!"

"I'm a catch that's young enough to be his daughter, and a student that he literally rescued from the gutter. I seriously doubt he sees me as anything more than a friend, at best. Besides, he already feels terribly guilty about what happened to my reputation when he did step in and try to help me. The last thing he'd do is taint my reputation further."

"Well, that'll be a mute point," said Harry. "Skeeter knows it was you that reported her as an unregistered Animagus. Once she gets a hold of the fact that you two are working together alone in his house all day, no one but us will believe he's not tainting you up, down and sideways, three times a day."

Hermione sighed. "I know. It's a shame really. I could do with a little tainting."

"Show him your tits," said Ron. "He'll taint you in a heartbeat."

"Ugh, gross," blurted Ginny, throwing a cushion at him.

Ron ducked without taking his eyes off the telly. "What? All I'm saying, is that if she wants to get Snape in the sack, get his mind on her tits. You don't have to actually flash him, just don't wear a bra. You remember that time in the tent when you couldn't find your bra? Merlin, I wanked myself blind for days from watching them bounce around the countryside under your jumper."

"Okay, that's it!" cried Ginny, jumping up off the couch and storming into the kitchen. "I was going to heat up dinner, but who would still want to eat after picturing that?"

Harry, Hermione and Ron all looked at each other and shrugged.

"I'm hungry," said Hermione.

"Me too," said Harry.

Ron just grunted.

* * *

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror and struck an innocent pose. She'd chosen a loose skirt that flowed down to just above her ankles and a knit jumper with a respectably high collar and long sleeves. The fact that it was a bit clingy and she wasn't wearing a bra was offset by the fact that she hadn't taken much effort with her hair and wore sensible shoes. Surely she wouldn't look like she was trying in sensible shoes?

Ever since her dinner the other night, when she'd finally admitted she fancied Snape out loud, she'd thought of nothing else. She'd ruined thirty Galleons-worth of ingredients yesterday because she'd had trouble keeping her eyes and mind off of the man.

He was so different to what anyone thought they knew. He was so very human. He stubbed his toes, scratched his bollocks, shopped at Tesco's, and she suspected he drank far too much when she wasn't around. He was a masterful brewer and a terrible cook. He snapped, and snarled, and moved incredibly quickly to heal the tiniest steam-burn on her pinky, before taking the next fifteen minutes to berate her.

He also blushed. That last fact had done her in.

What he didn't seem to do was fancy her back. Obviously, she was not his cup of tea, which made her even more of an idiot for attempting to take Ron up on his advice. Since when did she ever take Ron's advice in anything but chess?

She nearly changed her mind and threw on a bra after all, but she looked at the picture she had Spell-o-taped next to her mirror, showing him leaning in to whisper in her ear, as she slowly turned her face towards him, and she firmed up her resolve.

Soon the world would be even more convinced she was shagging Severus Snape than ever before. Was making it a reality really that wrong? Well, aside from the whole never-date-your-boss thing? And the age difference? And the fact that she might only fancy him because she was suffering from a bad case of hero worship?

She sighed. It was his fault. A man his age really shouldn't have a nice bum. Really. If he was expecting her to stick to the high road with as arse like that, he was expecting far too much.

She nodded to her reflection and left her bedroom.

Five minutes later she hurried back in, pulling her jumper over her head and snatching a bra out of a drawer.

* * *

Hermione Apparated to a secluded area by the old canal and walked the few hundred yards to his dilapidated house. She felt his wards accept her as she pushed open the front door. There was something homey about their routine now, the way he'd added her to his life, his home and his livelihood. She took off her cloak and hung it on the peg by the door and walked through his living room, crammed with books and now with two faded squashy chairs instead of one. She went through to the kitchen and he looked up from his plate and nodded towards the cooker.

"Breakfast if you want it," he muttered, after he'd swallowed and wiped his lips with a napkin.

She grabbed a plate. "What have we burned today?"

"Scrambled eggs and tomatoes. You ate all the sausage yesterday. There's coffee. We're out of tea as well. I need to run to the store again. I think you should stop by St. Mungo's and have a Healer check you for a tape worm. The Giant Squid ate less than you do."

"I'll have you know, I have a very high metabolism. As for running to the store, I'll go with you. I need a few things myself."

"No, I need you to start the base for more Veritaserum, and then start on that post that came today. I think they caught on to the Pepperup sooner than we thought they would. I'll need to monitor this batch of Wolfsbane for a few hours when I return."

"Alright. I'll start that now as I eat."

He pushed back from the table as she turned away from the cooker with her plate. They danced around each other awkwardly in the small space before he twisted away towards the sink, and she made it to the table and sat down in his chair.

"Snape?"

"Hmm?"

"Would you like to go to a game with me on Saturday?"

He paused, letting the water sluice clean his soapy hand. "A game?"

"I have tickets to see Harry and Ron play against Ginny and the Harpies for the first time. It will be fun. I…" She bit her lip and took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you wanted to go. With me."

He didn't reply during the time it took to finish scrubbing his plate and rinse it. He plucked up an old tea towel and dried his hands. "I don't think that would be wise, Miss Granger. The press… I think it would be too damaging to your reputation to be seen with me."

"That's a noble sentiment, Mr. Snape, but my reputation is rather tattered already. And if you are right about the day's post, there won't be anything left by the weekend anyway."

He turned and looked at her with haunted eyes.

She smiled at him. "I don't care," she said.

"Your friends—"

"You are my friend. As for the others, I have no secrets from them. They gave me two tickets. They know how I feel about you, and they do not judge me." She'd taken a gamble with that last line. He could take it for the truth it was, or merely the truth he could accept. Her resolve failed her as he stared at her. She looked down at the table and grabbed the ketchup.

"Let's see how the week goes," he said.

"Alright."

* * *

The week didn't go well. Snape grew more furious and withdrawn with each new "exposé" that appeared in the papers about the two of them. The public was now well-aware of just how many patents Snape held and just how vulnerable they were, should he decide to privatize all of them. Even after their quick denial of any intention of changing the status of the Improved Pepperup patent, stories were published that came close to painting him as the next Dark Lord, and her as either his naïve or willing whore. The press had parked outside his house in the beginning of the week and showed no signs of leaving. After the first day of being accosted by photographers and journalists, Hermione had decided to travel back and forth to work under a Disillusionment Charm that left them convinced she was now spending the night.

The public ate it up and Hermione was shocked at the sheer volume of hate-mail that came with the post each day. Snape had just sneered when she'd expressed surprise.

The mood inside the house hit an all time low. It was as if Snape feared the press could see and hear everything they said to each other. He was painfully correct in his behavior when they did interact, but usually kept to himself, either brewing or making a point of leaving the house and dragging the press along behind him like spaniels, so she could be alone.

Hermione tried several times to pull him out of the malaise he was falling into, only to be courteously ignored.

By Friday, he was ready to explode, and Hermione feared he might just do something stupid. Taking a leaf from his book, she decided it was her turn to be the one to lure them away and let the man have some peace. At noon, she packed up her work area and took off her brewing apron.

"I've got a few things I need to do," she said casually.

"What things?"

"Important things," she replied. "I'm leaving early today."

His head came up from the cauldron he'd been stirring and he looked around at her. She couldn't help fidgeting under his stare.

"Give me a moment, and I will see you safely out."

"There's no need," she said. "I'm a big girl, Snape. I can handle it."

His eyes slid closed and he dropped his head. "You shouldn't have to," he said quietly.

"They don't bother me. I wish they didn't bother you."

"And I wish they'd all burn in hell. No one ever gets what they wish for."

"That's not true. Lots of people do. Ginny and Harry did. Ron as well." She sighed. "I wish you would reconsider and come tomorrow."

He looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. "You must be joking. I think you're an idiot to even consider going yourself. I'd forbid it completely, if I didn't know Arthur and Molly will be there."

"_Forbid _it?" Hermione's temper flared. "What makes you think you have the right to forbid anything? You can't order me around once I leave this house, Snape. You have no claim on me outside of our contract."

He opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again.

"Get out, you stupid little girl," he snarled. "See if I care what happens to you!"

He turned away from her, and she felt a wrenching pain in her chest. She took a deep breath and walked over to where he was dicing daisy roots with painstaking care. She lifted her hand and placed it on his shoulder and felt his sudden shudder under her hand before he shrugged it off.

"I'll see you Monday," she said.

He continued to chop roots for a long moment, before he darted a look at her and nodded sharply once.

She was halfway up the basement stairs when he called out to her.

"Please be careful, Granger."

"I will, I promise."

* * *

Hermione clapped, cheered and shouted as Harry and Ginny whizzed past, grinning like a typical pair of love-struck rivals out to kill each other over a tiny golden ball. She was wedged in with the rest of the Weasleys and trying hard to ignore the fact that she was the cause of more talk in the seats around her than the game. George was plastered to her side, trying to physically shield her from the comments, and Molly looked like she was ready to start hexing people, while Arthur spent most of the game calming his wife.

Hermione lasted forty-five minutes before the names and cat-calling became too much and she quietly left, despite the protests from her adopted family. She was distracting them from a game they should have been talking about with laughter for the next ten years and felt like an arse. She hurried to the apparition site and popped away.

She landed at the canal, and cast a quick Disillusionment Charm over herself and snuck past the reporters and journalists hiding around his house.

She felt the wards give and pushed the door open. She'd never come on a Saturday before. The illusion of a homey routine was broken by what felt far too much like and intrusion on his privacy. She canceled her spell and headed into the kitchen out of habit and found him sitting at the table, staring out the window and drinking brandy at two in the afternoon, and from the sluggish movements of his hands, she thought he'd been at it for quite a while. She'd never seen him look so disheveled.

She walked up behind him and stopped.

"Do you ever think about what it would be like?" she asked.

"What what would be like?" he asked his glass.

"That kiss we never shared. From the picture in the paper."

He paused for a long moment before he drained his glass.

"Do you still think about moving to Australia?" he asked in reply, as he reached for the bottle and filled his glass again.

She stood there for a long time staring at the back of his head and watching him drink, before she sighed and went home.

* * *

Oof.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: It's like a twerked form of yoga breathing. Inhale fluff, exhale angst... repeat until you're dizzy.

* * *

"Bloody hell!" he bellowed waving a stack of orders. "Do you realize what this means? I need more employees! I need a bigger facility! Two people can't keep up with this! This whole idea was absurd! I was a fool to allow you to talk me into this!" He flung the stack of orders at his desk and spun away, as they scattered.

She bent down and started to pluck them up off the seat of the chair and the floor, arranging them neatly on top of his desk again. She let him rant without interruption, oddly surprised, even after all this time, at his capacity for vitriol. Her employer had been livid for the last twenty-four hours straight.

He snatched up cauldrons and started banging them onto the lab tables. "I was happy before, you know," he snarled. "I didn't have to deal with this. I could leave my fucking house without a trail of photographers dogging my steps. I used to have time to read a fucking book!"

He slammed the big number ten pewter down with a resonant gong and turned on her.

"I didn't have to worry if my apprentice was going to be caught out in the snow, surrounded by drunken would-be rapists because she wanted to fucking buy presents for her fucking halfwit friends! I wouldn't be forced to contemplate what could have happened, the absurdity of you having to run into Knockturn Alley for safety, or the fact that you didn't fucking call me for help!"

He slapped a cutting board onto the table and began pulverizing sopohorous beans with the side of a large carving knife. He lifted up the knife and jabbed it at her.

"Did you apply more bruise paste? I told you it needed to be applied three times a day!"

She held her hand up to her still tender cheek. "I'll go put some more on now," she said quietly.

She left the basement and entered into the kitchen. She looked up at the tapping of an owl and quickly opened the window and snatched the parchment off its leg. She saw it was yet another order and sighed. She sat down in the chair and stared out the window, as fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

She didn't hear him enter the room, she just turned her head when she smelled the paste and closed her eyes, as his warm fingers began to spread it gently across the still tender bruise. His touch was so slight, as was the trembling of his hand. She winced from the ache in her heart, that this sordid incident was what led to his hand on her skin for the first time. She tilted her head to the side so he could see his work. His last stroke was a graze of knuckles across her jaw that almost broke her.

"Granger. This has to end. You could have been killed. You have the money you need to start a new life in Australia. I will give you more if you want. We're already well off now, even in just these few months of your mad scheme. It's enough."

She turned her head and looked up into his dark eyes and whispered, "Come with me."

His eyes widened and he backed away, shaking his head slightly. "Miss Granger—"

She slammed the flat of her hands down on the table. "No! Don't call me that! You can't keep using my name like a shield between us! It's ludicrous and insulting!"

His eyes filled with rage. "Get out! I am done with this farce! I am not your fucking hero, Granger. Stop looking at me like I am." He gathered his robes around him and narrowed his eyes. "You're fired. You will gather your things and leave."

"You are such an arse, Snape," she said, standing up and heading towards the door. "You can't fire me. You wouldn't even know where to find the paperwork to terminate our contracted agreement."

He followed her into the living room and watched intently as she snatched her cloak off the hook, his eyes following her fingers in growing alarm as they fastened each clasp.

"I have things to do. When I come back, I want you to be done with this snit. Now that you've resorted to empty demands, it's getting tiresome."

"I meant what I said, Granger! You're—"

"Stop." She held up a hand. "Don't lie to me. You don't want me to leave anymore than I want to go."

"You'll fucking leave in the end anyway! Where's the harm in being shut of you now?"

They stared at each other in a shocked silence, realizing that he had let slip much more than he'd intended. She knew him well enough to know that he would lash out at her in earnest now that he had made himself vulnerable.

"Do you need anything from Tesco's?" she asked, as she cast her Disillusionment spell.

He blinked at this sudden change in topic and she could see relief and the flicker of gratitude in his eyes.

"No," he said quietly. He turned away and went back into the kitchen before she opened the door, but she wasn't fooled. She knew he would dash back and watch to make sure she got safely away.

* * *

Hermione entered the house and canceled her spell, before hanging her cloak and heading into the kitchen.

Snape sat at the table staring out the window. She wished him good morning, as she always did, and his only acknowledgement was a loosening of his shoulders and a deeply indrawn breath, which he blew out with a sigh.

She saw he hadn't eaten and started rattling through the cupboards. He stood and tapped the kettle with his wand.

When they sat down to eat, she pulled a thick roll of parchment out of her backpack and tossed it onto the table next to his plate.

"What's this?" He picked it up and sat back, unfurling two pages of scrolls covered in legal terms.

"Happy Christmas. Sign them."

"And just what do you have me signing this time?"

"It's a production contract. Arcane Alchemy Limited is going to take over our production work starting January third. We will be able to increase our power, without having to do more work."

"How did you get them to agree to do this?" he asked with suspicion.

"Easily. You ordered them to. You bought them out yesterday. That's the other page. You need to sign that as well. I left all of their management in place, but they are now aware that if production standards are not up to your exacting measures, you will be making changes. We'll be inspecting the facility on the fourth. And they are obligated to send you one random vial out of every batch of every potion."

"I don't want to inspect their brewing facility, and I have better things to do than check random vials.'

"You say that now, but after spending the holidays stewing over the fact that your name will be associated with every potion that leaves that place, your inner control freak will kick in. I just went ahead and took that into account. You'll have time to read a book again."

He frowned at her and then looked down at the parchment. When he looked back up again he smiled. It was _that_ smile, and it made her toes curl.

"You do realize," she said, "that I drained both of our bank accounts to do this." His smile slid off his face. "So no one will be running off to Australia anytime soon. We are now quite broke until after the holidays."

"When exactly did I give you control over my bank account?"

"Last week, when I realized we were getting too big for our boots. You signed the form when you renewed the latest patent. You really should pay attention. I've been telling you that all along. Perhaps this will be a lesson."

"You do realize that I will need to go grocery shopping before our profits from your latest venture roll in? Oh, but I forgot, you're only entitled to bread and cheese and a bit of meat once a week."

"I'm also entitled to a pallet on the floor near a fire, which I just might need with my rent coming due on the first. As for food, I've already taken care of at least two days worth. You're coming with me to the Burrow for Christmas dinner tonight and we'll be staying over. So we get to eat Molly's cooking tomorrow as well. If we play our cards right, we can snag the leftovers."

She saw the horrified look on his face and giggled. "I already told her we were both coming. If you back out now, she'll send Arthur to make you feel bad."

He snorted in disgust and scowled at her before he tossed the parchments on the table and finished his breakfast.

* * *

Snape entered the Burrow behind his apprentice and zapped the mistletoe that was hanging in the doorway before anyone saw. He clenched his jaw during the noisy welcome, but when he saw no evidence of judgment or suspicion, he relaxed and returned Molly and Arthur's cordial welcome. He was a bit nonplussed at Potter's enthusiastic hand pumping, and Ronald's thump on the back drew a scowl, but he took it all as the overly-sincere acceptance it was intended as and was amused.

He eventually settled down in a corner and watched the antics of this strange tribe of people that never seemed capable of sitting still. Dinner was loud and raucous and when he found himself nearly too overwhelmed by the sheer Weasley-ness of it all, Granger caught his eye and gave him a conspiratorial smile, and he calmed.

Pudding was served with tea, coffee or port. Snape chose the port.

Presents were opened by the tree, with lots of conversation about how things would be different next year when Bill's newly-announced baby joined the festivities.

Snape received a new knitted hat and matching scarf from Molly, black; a leather wallet from Potter, black; some warm knitted socks from Ginevra, black; and a new number eight iron cauldron from his apprentice, to replace the one she'd melted the bottom out of. Black, of course. The best present was a nice bottle of Armagnac from Ronald. The most conversation-stopping was an extendable ear from George, who almost had his other one hex off once Snape realized it was just a tasteless joke. His mother boxed his remaining ear, while Granger, sitting on the floor by Snape's knee surreptitiously squeezed his ankle and distracted him quite thoroughly.

He feigned ennui when she opened her present from him. He shrugged off mention of the effort that went into finding a replacement clock for the one that had finally refused to be repaired again—despite the fact that it had taken him weeks of trudging through Muggle shops to find one even close to being as horrendously ugly as the original. The idiot girl had started to cry, at which point he'd had enough and excused himself to get another glass of port.

It was past two in the morning when the party broke up and they all made their way towards the stairs. Snape hung back, having had enough of being surrounded on stairs while a teacher, and so it was that he and Granger were among the last stragglers heading to their respective rooms, aside from a drunken Ronald, who was caroling up the stairs dead last.

Snape stopped in front of his door.

"Did you have fun tonight?" she asked.

"I ate enough free food to justify any inconvenience," he replied.

She giggled and then lifted up on her toes and kissed his cheek, leaving a puff of sweet, warm breath near his ear when she pulled away.

"Good night, Snape. Happy Christmas. I'll see you at the next free meal in the morning."

He watched as she sauntered down the hall with her arms wrapped around her new clock and disappeared into a bedroom with a last wave.

"You saw her tits, didn't you? I told her it would work, even on you. They're amazing aren't they? It's like they defy gravity, being so plump and round without the droo-_oop_!" Ronald Weasley's words slurred to a halt and his eyes crossed when Snape's wand touched the end of his nose. "Right then. G'nite P'fessor."

* * *

"Severus, are you sure you and Hermione won't stay the weekend?" asked Molly, even as she heaped more covered dishes into his arms. "It's late, and I don't like the idea of you going home alone to that empty house of yours."

"Thank you, Molly, but no. I'm afraid I've reached the limit of my social abilities. Miss Granger is free to stay, of course." He looked at the girl. "You don't need to return to work until after New Year's, you know."

"Oh, I've things to see to and cats to feed," she replied. "I thank you as well, Molly. I had a splendid time."

Snape was spared having to shake hands with anyone due to holding a cauldron full of knit-wear, brandy, ears and enough food to last him almost week, depending on the appetite of his employee's tape worm.

Granger and he made their way to the Apparition point and with a last wave, she disappeared with a pop. He nodded to Potter, still waving his arm around like a git, and Disapparated as well.

He landed by the canal and had taken several steps before he saw Granger waiting for him on the tow path.

"I thought you had a cat to feed?"

"I do, but you had your arms full and I thought you might need help."

He looked down at her own arms, barely restraining the pile of presents she held, and raised his eyebrow. She blushed and turned away, stomping up the street towards his house.

Once inside, they headed straight for the kitchen and deposited their burdens on the kitchen table. He took off his cloak and laid it on the back of a chair and opened the refrigerator. She started passing him dishes and together they worked quickly to put away their new hoard of food. He closed the door and turned to her, still standing in her cloak, with her new bright-orange mittens and hat and dark-green muffler with little golden talons all over it so she could look appropriately confused at the next match between Chudley and Holyhead.

"Well," he said. "It looks like we'll be able to eat until we get paid again at least."

"Yeah. I knew I could count on Molly."

"Would you like some tea?"

"I'd love to say yes, just so I could have an excuse to stay longer, but I think I might explode if I did."

He looked at her in the faint light from the moon streaming in the window and the lone candle he had lit. The silence stretched out until he thought they both might snap.

"I did have a lovely time, Miss Granger," he said, watching as the tiny frown line appeared, as it always did when he addressed her formally.

She sighed and picked up her clock. "I did too. I guess I will just hang this and be on my way then."

She pulled out a chair and dragged it over to the wall above the door to the tiny bathroom, and scrambled up. "What time is it then?"

"Nine thirty-two."

She placed the clock on the wall, pulled her mittens off and stuffed them in her pockets and spun the hands, before pulling on the chain and starting it ticking.

She turned, and he moved up and held out his hand to help her down. She took it lightly in her own and stepped down gracefully.

The moment to politely let go came and went for both of them as they stared at each other in silence. He stroked his thumb across the back of her hand and she tilted her head just the slightest. His eyes flickered down to her lips and his head swayed just a fraction of an inch closer, before pulling back. He let go of her hand and tightened her muffler around her neck, tossing one end back over her shoulder.

"Good night, Miss Granger," he said, turning away and gathering his cloak up off the chair.

He heard her little frustrated growl behind him and closed his eyes from the pain that sound caused, as she stomped past him and headed towards the front door. The walls shook when she slammed it behind her. He moved quickly to the window and watched, as she struggled to shove her hands into her mittens and stalked off into the night.

* * *

I still can't reply to reviews! But I can read them :-)


	8. Chapter 8

AN: I still can't reply to anything. How annoying is this?

* * *

Hermione was ensconced in her chair in the living room, reading A History of Psychotropic Potions, and Their Regulations. Since their brewing company had taken over production, Snape had decided to get serious about her status as an apprentice and had been force-feeding her tomes on regulatory practices and ethics relating to the Potions industry.

She jotted down a few more notes and looked up when the door banged open and slammed again.

"Granger!"

"I'm right here," she said. "There's no need to shout." Although she'd known he would, as soon as he said he was off to go shopping.

"Why the hell am I broke again? You do realize we are out of toilet roll and biscuits, don't you? I looked at my Gringotts statement days ago and we were fucking rich! Now I have nothing to wipe my arse with!"

She reached into her backpack on the floor by her feet and pulled out an enormous roll of scratchy, industrial-grade paper.

"This will work until we get by."

He caught it and stared at it as if it offended him. "Where the hell did you get this?"

"I swiped it from the public loos at the Tube station. Their fault for leaving it on the counter."

"And we are stealing toilet roll because…?"

"Because I knew we were running out, and I knew we were about to be on a tightened budget."

His eyes narrowed at her. "You made me buy something else, didn't you?"

"You didn't look at the papers you signed three days ago, did you?"

He growled at her. "I was distracted. If you hadn't been rushing me, I would have been able to read them properly."

"You had three days to read them properly, Snape."

"What do I own now?"

"Haversham Importers."

"And I own them why?"

"Because they supply our business with sixty percent of our imported potions ingredients and they were gouging us. Their manager was Rita Skeeter's cousin. It's their fault they overextended and defaulted on a loan. They'd have had enough money to get by if they hadn't decided to redecorate their offices. They spent twenty thousand Galleons on office furniture alone. Idiots."

"Did you leave the management in place like you did the last time?" he asked.

"Of course not. You fired all of their senior management yesterday. You also promoted three people, and you moved Andrew Festerling over from Arcane Alchemy to take over the finance department."

"Festerling's a good man. I made a wise decision."

"Yes, you did. That's why you gave him a raise as well."

"Lovely. I'm sure he will spend his money happily, while I blister my arse with stolen bog roll."

"If you need help medicating any blisters, just give me a call," she said blithely, returning her focus to her book.

"You wish," he muttered.

"All day, every day," she replied dryly.

"You'd greatly improve your chances if you just happened to have some decent biscuits in your pack as well," he tossed back, as he stomped away.

Hermione looked up from her book with a calculating expression and then snatched up a piece of parchment.

As she was tying her note to her owl's leg, Snape called up the stairs.

"What the hell is this?"

"That's your new desk!" she hollered back. "Haversham ended up with one more expensive desk than they had managers, so I decided the new owner deserved it."

"Where the bloody hell is my old desk? I liked that desk!"

"Look to the left!"

"Oh. Very good."

* * *

It was hours later when he came up into the kitchen for tea. Hercules hooted a greeting to him from the table where he strutted back and forth next to a box addressed to him in Molly Weasley's handwriting. He tapped the kettle and then opened the box. It was filled with an assortment of Molly's homemade biscuits, including the type swirled with raspberry and dark chocolate that he'd particularly liked.

He sighed and looked up to see Granger standing there with an exaggerated look of expectancy.

"Clearly, you are a very disturbed young woman," he muttered. "Why don't you go find yourself a young man to scratch this itch of yours?"

She heaved a sigh and dragged a hand through her ridiculous hair. "Just tell me why you keep pretending you don't want to scratch it yourself, and if I think you're being truthful, I will."

He scowled and poured the boiling water into the teapot. "Perhaps I don't want to roll around with a girl half my age."

"I've no doubt that was the case at first, but we passed that stage months ago when you started treating me like an equal."

"Has it occurred to you that I simply might not be interested in a physical relationship?"

"Yes, and I threw out that explanation on Boxing Day when you almost kissed me."

"We are highly incompatible."

"Snape, we're like an old married couple already. We spend practically every moment together, doing everything under the sun but the one thing nearly everyone in the Wizarding world already thinks we're doing."

He slammed down the plate of sandwiches he'd pulled out of the refrigerator. "Perhaps it means something to me that I haven't sunk so low as to make their lies truth! Did it never occur to you that it might be about personal honor? That it might just mean a lot to me to know that I _haven't_ fucked you, in spite of what everyone thinks?"

She blanched and her eyes filled with tears. She took a deep breath. "Alright," she said. "That one works rather well." She pushed her mop of hair back out of her face and blinked several times to clear the tears from her eyes. "I can respect that. I'm sorry if I made things difficult."

He sighed heavily and pushed the plate of food closer to her. "Granger, I—"

"No. Don't back down just because you upset me. Let's just drop it. I thank you for being honest. Just give me a little while to adjust, and I'll be right as rain."

She snatched up a sandwich and a cup of tea and headed back into the sitting room.

He stared after her and then hung his head and sighed.

* * *

"Arcane reports some problems with distribution. It seems that several apothecaries are beginning to refuse to carry our potions, After Skeeter's latest smear piece in the Prophet. The public has actually been asking them directly for the product, but they aren't equipped to handle a mail-order business. St. Mungo's has asked us to deal with this issue as well, since they are being overrun with people trying to buy ordinary potions from them."

"Which ones are boycotting us?"

"Basically everyone besides Slug and Jiggers."

"And what are we doing about this?"

"We've bought a forty-nine percent share of Slug and Jiggers and have purchased four additional properties to expand them into a chain. They are very excited."

"Marvelous. Will I be able to eat and wipe my arse?"

"We have five hundred Galleons in the bank until next Thursday, so unless you plan on going on an insane spending spree between now and then, your arse should be blister-free. I need you to sign these papers."

"Just leave them on my desk. If you help me check these samples, I can look at them before dinner. What are we having, by the way?"

"You're having leftover hot pot. I have a date so I'm packing up early."

There was a profound silence after she said this, and she looked over her shoulder to see him staring at the wall utterly still. She bit her lip and went back to her work.

* * *

"What do you mean he's a Muggle? You've been dating this boy for over a month and I'm just now finding out he's a Muggle?"

"I wasn't aware you needed to be advised," she said, opening a new box of samples. "And why are you surprised Reginald is a Muggle? You know full well there's not a Wizard in Britain that wants to date me, you're one of them."

"Granger," he snarled.

"Does this look off to you?" she said holding a vial up to the light.

Whatever he had been about to say was cut off as he reached for the vial and held it up to the light. He emptied the vial into a bowl, and added a teaspoon of powdered Staghorn Root. It started to smoke and turned black, filling the room with a noxious odor before Snape vanished it.

"Check the rest of that box. Immediately."

She started pulling out the vials and holding them up to the light. Out of a box of twenty four, six were tainted.

"What is it?" she asked after him, as he headed up the stairs.

"Ipecacuanha root. Someone deliberately tainted those batches. Anyone who ingested it would projectile vomit instantly. We have to get to the brewery. Now."

Hermione's brows shot up and she dashed after him.

They Apparated directly into the main office of Arcane Alchemy with a loud bang. Snape held her against his side as she wobbled, before turning to the Facility Manager and asking, "Have yesterday's batches been shipped yet?"

"No, sir. They are scheduled to go out after lunch," Denebia Sprout, answered with her hand pressed to her bosom.

He turned to Hermione and hissed, "Employee files." She hurrieded over to the file cabinets, and he turned towards Mrs. Sprout and said, "Stop production on everything and have all of the employees gather in the break room. Do not explain anything, and tell no one that we are here. Do not allow anyone to leave the building and do not allow any deliveries to go out."

"Yes, sir. Am I allowed to know what's going on?"

"Someone tried to ruin my business yesterday," he replied.

They sat in Mrs. Sprout's office going over the employee schedules and coming up with a list of names of everyone that had contact with the actual brewing process the day before, then Hermione pulled their employment applications.

"I know she's Professor Sprout's sister-in-law, but are you sure we trust her?" asked Hermione quietly.

"Implicitly," he replied.

Mrs. Sprout came back in. "It's all been shut down and I've warded the building. Anyone that tries to leave will think they have to state their name in order to get through, but the doors still won't open. Will that do?"

"Excellent. Miss Granger here will explain what we need; I am going to inspect the batches."

The twenty employees of Arcane Alchemy, a Subsidiary of Snape Enterprises, Ltd., were sitting in their break room, gossiping excitedly amongst themselves, when the manger, the owner, and the owner's apprentice walked in.

"Phillipa Admunsen?" Miss Granger asked.

Everyone turned their heads to the woman sitting by herself in the corner looking rather pale.

"Yes?"

Snape walked slowly across the room. "You tried to leave, after you were told we needed you to remain in the building, Mrs. Admunsen. Would you care to explain why?"

The woman darted her eyes around nervously. "I just wanted a bit of air. I wasn't going anywhere."

"You file says you started working here two weeks ago. Why did you wait two weeks?"

"Wait two weeks for what?"

"To tamper my toothache remedy," he replied.

There were gasps around the room and a surge of movement away from that side.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Oh, but you do, Mrs. Admunsen. I can see it in your eyes. You cannot hide a lie from me. I know what you did. What I want to hear from your own lips, is _why_. Surely you must know that my potion is popular with teething infants. I found six tainted vials in the test batches sent to me this morning. How many more will I find when I inspect the shipment? Just how many children were you planning on making sick? How many of my employees were you planning to put out of work?"

The room was deathly silent as everyone stared at the woman. Hermione felt the tension rise and started to walk in a wide circle around the other employees until she had a clear view of the woman. When she went for her wand, Hermione disarmed her before she could finish her words.

Snape smiled, a wide, death's head grin, as he lifted his own wand and whispered "Legilimens."

Ten minutes later, he turned to Mrs. Sprout and said, "Send for the Aurors."

Hermione came up, wand still trained on the woman, and Snape turned to the rest of his employees.

"I need you all to destroy everything brewed yesterday, and today. Especially today's batches of Cough Serum. Save only enough for evidence for the Aurors. We will be shutting down for the day when they are through. We need to go over new safety protocols."

Admunsen lunged at Snape when his back was turned, and Hermione cried out, "Stupefy!"

There were several shocked yells and then a few more hearty shouts of praise, as the woman slid to the floor.

Hermione's wand started to shake from her fury and Snape reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze.

"So why did she do it?" Hermione asked in a shaky voice. Nearly all of the employees crowded closer to hear the answer.

"To destroy us, Granger. She was paid by someone to discredit us. The person that hired her wanted a scandal big enough to ruin us for good. And having people up and down Britain projectile vomiting after using our products would have been just the ticket."

"Who would do that?"

Snape turned to her and smiled his terrifying grin again. "Rita Skeeter."

* * *

"The Daily Prophet is back in the black. Newspaper sales are back up with Skeeter's trial date set," she said when she came in the room. "Who would have thought they would have hung their own star reporter out to dry? She's looking at six years in Azkaban. How sad for her." Hermione giggled wickedly.

"Seems I missed my chance to buy a newspaper," he said, as he set her plate of eggs and burnt toast on the table.

"You thought about it, but then decided you didn't want to soil your portfolio."

"Indeed."

"By the way, you also endowed a chair to research Memory Damage at St. Mungo's. We meet with them next week to go over criteria for candidates."

"That's excellent. I'm glad that's up and running. You should be proud."

"I am, thank you."

"Is this the royal we? Or do I actually have to go?"

"Royal."

"Good."

"Did you know Obscurus books is looking for a partner or buyer?"

"No. Am I going to buy them?"

"I thought about it, but you just bought that distributor in Turkey, so you would have needed to get a loan for the last bit to take them over outright, and you didn't fancy just being a partner. Besides, I didn't want to spend all of our money again. I need some to go on holiday in June."

He stopped halfway into his seat and stared at her. "Holiday?"

"Reginald wants me to go with him to Greece for a week next month."

He sat down hard and scowled. "When were you planning on telling me?"

"I just did," she said, smearing marmalade onto her toast.

"You can't go. I'll need you that week."

"I can too. It's in my contract. And you don't even know what week it is."

"I thought you were saving all your money to move to Australia?"

"I am. Well, when I'm not helping you to buy the Wizarding world. Besides, I'm not paying; Reginald is. I just want spending money."

"You can't just go traipsing across Europe with some boy you barely know. It's not safe."

"He's twenty-nine—hardly a boy, Snape—and I can, and will. I've never been to Greece."

"Gods, Granger! He's nearly ten years older than you! He's obviously some letch out to just use you."

She threw down her fork. "At least _someone_ wants to use me!" She sucked in a deep breath and held it before blowing it out and saying, "This is not up for discussion."

"Fine. Go off and fuck whoever you want. It's certainly doesn't interest me in the least."

He shoved back from the table and stormed off to his lab, leaving his uneaten meal behind. She dropped her head into her hands and started to cry.

The next three weeks were hell. They worked in silence, unless she was submitting her latest paper on Potions ethics, then there would be hours of snide aspersions on her intelligence in the form of critical responses. She stopped coming early for breakfast and left at five on the dot. Monday mornings he looked like hell, and it was obvious he'd spent the weekend deep in his cups.

Finally, the Friday before her holiday came. He was preternaturally calm all day and she was walking on eggshells. The blow fell at four o'clock, after she had cleared away the last of the paperwork and tidied her desk. She stepped back and turned, only to find him looming over her.

"Don't come back," he said quietly.

She rolled her eyes. "Snape, you can't just—"

Her words cut off as he held up a notarized parchment, complete with ribbon affixed in wax.

"You terminated my contract?" she gasped. "You actually terminated my contract?" She snatched at the paper but he pulled it out of her reach. "How could you do this? You stupid, petty _brat!_ How could you fucking do this to me!"

"I've arranged to have the rest of the year's pay deposited in your account, along with a bonus. You have enough to go to Australia now. Our arrangement is concluded. Your services are no longer needed. _Don't come back_." He turned his back on her and stalked off towards the potions supply room on the other side of the basement.

She stared after him in furious tears.

* * *

Idiot man...


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Apologies for the unintended cliff hanger yesterday. I had intended to load the entire story in one day. However, Mr. Aurette and I had managed to forget it was our 15th wedding anniversary, until the in-laws showed up to take us out to dinner. We never turn down free food.

* * *

Monday evening found Snape sitting at his kitchen table with his booted feet up, and his hand curled around a glass of brandy, staring out the open window for an owl he knew wouldn't come.

There would be no more owls. No more shared meals. No more laughter. No more mad schemes. No more running to the bank only to find he was broke again. He was a very wealthy man now and had nobody to drain his account while he wasn't looking. He had nobody at all.

He looked up at the empty space left on the wall from where she'd taken her clock. He could have had her for a few more months. He could have had her all to himself until September, but he threw her out instead.

Clearly, he was an idiot.

He poured himself another glass of brandy.

It was eight o'clock when he felt his wards chime and heard a knock at the door. His head came up quickly and he dropped his long legs to the floor and bolted up. He buttoned up the collar of his robes and dragged his hand repeatedly through his hair, before hurrying to the door and throwing it open.

"What have you done? In all my years of knowing you, you have reached a new low," hissed Minerva, as she shoved her way past him.

"What the devil are you talking about?" He said, as he slammed the door.

"I'm talking about _this_!" She thrust the newspaper clenched in her hand at him. He snatched it away from her and shook it out before looking at it. There, on the bottom of the front page was a photograph of Hermione and another man. The headline read: _'OVER! Snape Tosses Out His Tart!' _The caption to the photo said: '_Jilted Granger seen leaving her home with her new Muggle look-alike lover.'_

The man in the photograph was tall and thin, with short dark hair, a rather prominent nose, and glasses. He looked smug as he carried her luggage down the steps of her flat with one hand on the small of her back. Snape was filled with an irrational hatred for the man. The git obviously didn't make her happy. She looked sullen and angry in the photo, with large bags under her still-puffy eyes.

"How could you have destroyed the very last shreds of her reputation this way, Severus? If your relationship had run its course, couldn't you have kept it quiet until her contract ran out? Would it have hurt you so much to have let her finish her apprenticeship? Instead, you made it a matter of public record! You had to know it would have reached the press as soon as you filed the paperwork. Her apprenticeship has been notorious. You know she won't be hired anywhere now. The Ministry won't hire her back after giving them no notice. You've ruined her. After defending her to me and everyone else, it was you that ruined her!"

"No, I haven't," he said, tossing the newspaper back at her. "She's lost nothing of any great importance to her. Granger was never interested in being an apprentice. She was only after two things. Revenge and money."

He turned and walked back to the kitchen with Minerva following behind.

"What do you mean?" she asked, as he reached for a clean glass.

He poured her a drink and waited until they were both seated before he spoke.

"I don't think you realize the depths of Granger's hatred and disgust of the Wizarding world after that farce of an inquest over her N.E.W.T.s. When I next saw her again it was months later, and she was already plotting. She'd decided to work for one more year, hoarding her paltry salary, before leaving our world for good and never returning. She's going to move to Australia, so she can at least get to know the two people who gave birth to her and see if she could somehow fit back into their lives. The only people she still cares about at all are the Weasleys and Potter, and she still has them. She always will."

"How did you fit into all of this?"

"I was her form of revenge. She was the one who came up with the idea of renewing all my patents and putting the Wizarding world at my mercy. She's been behind every action, every take over, every buy-out, every strong-armed tactic that turned me from being merely hated and despised, to feared and respected, as well. I just took her away from the Ministry and gave her a chance to use her brain. I was nothing more than a safe place from which she could plan how best to start over."

"And ending the contract early?"

He closed his eyes. "I got tired of playing the game. She's very wealthy now. She doesn't need me anymore." He drank deeply from his glass as Minerva stared hard at him.

"You never slept with her at all, did you?"

He slammed his glass down. "No," he spat back. He waved a hand towards the paper on the table next to her. "She's been dating that fool for months now. His name is Reginald, and I highly doubt he'd look so smug if he knew she was planning on leaving him without a backwards glance as well."

"As well?" She pinned him with a shrewd eye.

"As well as the rest of us," he amended.

She shook her head and looked down at her drink. "Oh, Severus. Why is it, whenever I get a bellyful and confront you, I always end up looking like a fool."

She took another sip and placed her drink on the table and stood up. Snape walked her to the door, and she turned and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Did you never think to asked her to stay, you daft man?"

He blinked and looked down at the floor.

"Good bye, Severus. The next time I get a bellyful, I'll just send you an owl and you can burn the letter upon arrival." She squeezed his shoulder and added, "Drink isn't the answer, lad. It only adds to the pain in the long run."

* * *

Thursday evening found him sitting in the same place. He sat with his feet on the floor and his head in his hands. The uneaten plate of supper had been pushed to the side and an unopened stack of important correspondence was in a pile by the window. He'd killed half a bottle of brandy, when he felt his wards shiver and heard the door click open. He froze, and his heart started to race. He didn't even know he'd started rocking back and forth slightly, until she placed her hand on his shoulder and stopped him.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat, and his hand reached up and clasped hers. He turned his head to the side and pressed his face against her arm. She smelled of sunshine and tanning oil. He gripped her wrist with his other hand and pressed his lips against her soft flesh.

"You lied to me, Granger," he said, against her skin.

"When?"

"That first day. You promised I wouldn't regret letting you into my house, but I do. Oh, gods, I do. If I could go back in time I'd have locked the door against you."

"Why?" she whispered in a broken voice. Her other arm draped across his chest and she cradled his head against her neck.

"Because I knew, even then, it would hurt me to let you in."

"You never let me in."

"It would have hurt so much more when you finally left me. I never wanted you to leave me."

"You stupid man. Why did you never ask me to stay? Why do you think I kept spending all of our money? I did it so I would be too broke to move away, and you wouldn't get any more ideas of tossing me out early."

"Will you stay? I'll beg you on my knees if that's what you want. I've no pride left." He gripped her arm and pressed his face into the soft hollow on the inside of her elbow. "Don't leave me, Hermione. I can't bear it when you're not here."

He felt her start to shake and realized she was crying. He broke out of her grip and stood up, turning slowly, embarrassed by his drunkenness, his week's worth of beard, and his disheveled clothes. When he saw her tears, he forgot all of that and just reached for her, his hand moving up to tug her lip away from her teeth, before wiping her tears away. Her arms came up and he pulled her into his embrace, crooning to her as she started to cry harder and tucking her head under his chin as he rocked her.

"I can't bear it when I'm not here either, Severus. I love you. I have for a long time now."

He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. An intended rumble of pleasure came out sounding like a cry of pain.

"I'm so fucking sorry, Hermione. I cannot believe that you've come back. I'll never do it again. I'll never push you away again. I'll give you anything you want, I swear it!"

"I don't need things, Severus. I just need you. All of you."

"You have me."

She smiled through her tears, and leaned up and kissed him.

He hugged her tight, and a cry caught in his throat, as he kissed her back. He kissed her mouth, her cheek, her eyelids, and then he pulled her tight against him and rested his cheek against her hair.

"What about Reginald?" he asked.

She barked a sad laugh. "Reginald is still in Greece nursing a bruised ego and a swollen cheek for calling me a heartless bitch and a boring fuck."

Snape stiffened, as his anger began to swell.

She pushed back out of his arms. "Don't bother," she said, when she saw the murderous look in his eye. She took his hand and led him out of the kitchen. "I _was_ a heartless bitch. I picked him up in a nightclub because he looked the part." She spelled out the lights and led him over to the bookcase and tapped it with her wand. "As for being a boring fuck, I could see where he would get that impression. Once I took his glasses off and managed to get him to keep his mouth shut, I could shag him for hours. Unfortunately, he's a myopic nervous talker. Not too many men appreciate constantly being told to shut up in bed."

She led him up the stairs, into that area of his house she'd never been invited to before. After a questioning glance and an answering nod towards the right door, she led him to that one place he'd never been able to lie to himself about her. His bed.

"Reginald and I had nothing in common and I couldn't seem to make myself enjoy being around a Muggle all the time. He never had a chance, Severus. He was only ever a substitute. I thought I was supposed to go find someone else. So I did." At a push, he sat down on the narrow bed.

She bent down and pulled off his boots, wrinkling her nose at the smell. "When is the last time you had a bath?"

He felt his cheeks burn. "Friday," he replied.

"Hmm. That's too ripe for me. My intention was to just put you to bed and continue this discussion in the morning when you're sober, but," she leaned down and snatched up his dressing gown from the pillows, "you need to go wash. Where do you keep your t-shirts? Can I borrow one?"

He blinked at her. "You'll stay?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

"Of course," she replied. "You asked me to. I'll do anything you ask of me, Severus."

"Kiss me," he asked.

"Bathe first," she answered.

He huffed and stood up. "Why do I suspect this 'anything I ask' is always going to end up on its head?"

"Because you are a highly intelligent man. T-shirts?"

He gestured towards the proper drawer and stalked off to take the fastest shower and shave of his life. He snatched out a bottle of Soberup Potion and downed it, before brushing his teeth.

When he returned, she was curled up in his bed reading his copy of Chaucer. He stopped and stared at her, and she looked up and smiled at him. He was suddenly nervous, and wished he'd stayed drunk. She put the book down and flicked the blankets aside in invitation, revealing a hand-span of naked thigh between the sheet and the bottom of his shirt. _His_ shirt.

"Come on. I don't bite unless you want me to. We'll work it all out in the morning. For now, let's just sleep."

He walked across the room and flicked out the light with his wand, leaving them in darkness, before dropping his dressing gown and crawling into bed with her.

The bed was narrow so he pulled her into his arms and twined his legs around hers, as she leaned up and kissed his cheek. He couldn't hide the erection, so he took a deep breath and decided not to bother. He settled her against him and sighed.

"Why did you come back?" he asked.

"Minerva finally tracked me down through Ron. He's been watching Crooks and Hercules, while I was away. She told me I needed to have one more talk with you, before I put you behind me forever. That you were a stoic fool who was obviously in great pain, and probably trying to drink yourself to death." She settled her cheek against his chest. "I really didn't need her to tell me that, but you hurt me so much when you threw me away. We do so well ninety-five percent of the time, Snape, but that other five percent can be devastating."

"I'm sorry."

"I know." She kissed his chest and he tightened his arm around her. "Severus?"

"Yes?"

"Those reasons that you gave me for not wanting to be with me before, they were pretty convincing."

"They evaporated like the smoke they were made out of when you took your clock off the wall. I was really just afraid."

"Are you still afraid?"

"Terrified."

"Are you sure you want me to stay?"

"It's the only thing I _am_ sure about right now, Granger."

She sighed deeply, her warm, moist breath ghosting across his nipple and making him shudder.

"I'm glad," she said.

He rubbed his hand up and down her arm, finally grabbing her shoulder and urging her up his body as he brought his face down. She stretched and tilted her face towards his and he kissed her. They both stilled at the contact. Her lips were warm and soft, and her breath was sweet, as it puffed across his face. She surged up and pulled him into a tight hug and clung to him, one of her legs wrapping around his hip. She kissed his forehead and then his eyebrow, and then he felt her open lips glide across his cheek as she came back to his mouth. He rolled and pulled her on top of him and groaned when he felt her naked heat settle against him.

"If you were planning on just sleeping tonight and talking in the morning, what happened to your knickers?"

"What can I say? I like to plan for potential futures. I noticed you didn't bother with pants either."

"I had no intention of just sleeping," he said. "You were foolish enough to climb into my bed. Do you know how long it's been since I've had a woman in this bed?"

"You don't still mind that I'm only half your age?"

"I think we've clearly established that you are much more emotionally mature than I am."

"What about making their lies truth?"

"Is it true that you love me?"

"Yes."

"Than that's the only truth I care about anymore, Hermione. The rest of the world can go hang."

He heard her contented sigh and felt her lean down towards him. He held very still, savoring the expectation of her lips on his and marveling that this wasn't just another empty dream. When her lips finally touched his again, he sighed, and slid his tongue inside. He closed his eyes and felt the world spin, as her hands combed against his scalp, and she deepened the kiss. His hand kneaded her back, slowly traveling further down, until he worked them under the shirt and back up again. She stretched like a cat as he pulled the shirt over her head. His breath left him in a long sigh as he brought his hands up and cupped her rounded breasts.

She arched back and pushed them into his hands and he bent forward and took one in his mouth. When she mewled with pleasure, it was as if a coiled spring had been set loose and he growled, pulling her flush against him. The feel of skin on skin enflamed him, as he kissed and licked and lightly bit every inch of her he could reach. His hands skimmed down her hip and around her thigh until he palmed the wet heat of her core. When he felt how swollen and ready she was, a strangled moan escaped him.

She raised up and then sank down, slowly impaling herself on him and they both cried out

"_Hermione_…" he whispered.

"Oh, _yessss_," she answered.

He lifted her up and let her sink back down on him, moaning loudly. She stroked his chest and began to ride him. The incredible pleasure slowly unraveled his mind until he was babbling. He thrust up into her, arching off the bed, trying to drive his soul inside.

"I've had you so many times in this bed, Hermione. Always in my dreams. I've woken up crying out your name as I spilled myself on the sheets like a teenager. And now you are here. I won't be able to ever let you leave."

"Don't! Don't let me leave. Keep me here. Hide me away. Just love me, Severus. I need you to love me."

He stilled his thrusts and pulled her down, so he could kiss her deeply. "I do love you, Hermione. I can't even remember now, when I didn't. It bothers me sometimes, for I know there was a time when I didn't, but it's gone."

She reached down and stroked his face. "I know exactly what you mean," she said. "It feels like we were always meant to be together somehow."

He kissed her again and began to slide in and out of her, wanting to merge with her utterly and become one forever. He intended to slowly build the fire back up, but it was all simply too much. His face screwed up into a knot of intensity as he pounded into her, his hips slapping loudly against her thighs, as her hands fluttered across his body.

"Ohhhh," he moaned. "Oh, gods, you feel so good."

"Yesssss… _Severus_."

He lost himself in the sensations, losing his _self_, losing his place in time, losing the moment. He was only aware of her. That she had come back to him, and he was finally buried inside of her. He heard her cry out and felt her fluttering walls grip him, and his release rushed up at him. He surrendered to it like a glorious sacrifice, as he cried out, "I'm going to—Oh, fuu_uuuck!_" He slammed into her one last time and she rocked her hips against him as he emptied himself inside of her, feeling her inner muscles spasm around him. She drained him utterly. He dropped to the bed and pulled her down on top of him, as his chest heaved and he gulped in lungfuls of air.

"Clearly," he said, when he'd caught a breath, "your Reginald was a fucking idiot."

She let out a peal of laughter and wrapped her arms around him. "Oh, he had his good points," she said, with a giggle.

"Such as?"

"After two glasses of wine he looked just like you."

"Only two?"

"I'm a cheap date."

"Not if you count groceries. You've cost me thousands of galleons just in food alone."

"Yes, but it was money well spent. I've nearly made you a millionaire, haven't I?"

He frowned. "I was never interested in the money, Hermione. That was all for you."

"Yes, well, you benefited greatly. And I'm looking forward to making you benefit a great deal more. The Wizarding world might hate us, but they are going to kiss so much Snape arse by the time I am through, it will make a Malfoy cry from jealousy."

He grimaced. "Actually, at the moment, you're the one benefiting greatly."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought you needed funds for Australia. So I transferred my entire account into yours."

She went still. "What the hell did you do that for?"

"You needed money to start a new life."

"When did you do this?"

"Last Thursday."

She was silent for a long moment.

"I'm not sure I will ever truly understand you, Snape. You terminated our contract and tossed me out on my ear, but only _after_ you gave me all of your money?"

He stiffened and rolled her off him, tugging at the blankets to straighten them out.

"It's not like there wouldn't be more," he snapped. "You left me with all of these foolish companies I don't actually want to run."

She shifted under the blankets and wrapped herself around him, holding him tight, while his emotions roiled.

"Have I told you you're marvelous lately?"

He sighed and dropped his arm around her, tucking her head into his shoulder. "Not in the last few weeks, no."

"Severus, I might not fully understand how your mind works, but that doesn't mean I don't think you're absolutely marvelous."

"Good. I happen to think you are rather marvelous as well."

"Can we skip the lashing out in anger thing in the future? It's too painful for both of us."

"If you are patient with me while I get the hang of it. You've got forty years of precedent to unravel."

She giggled and cuddled against him.

"Just so we are clear," he said into the darkness, "you're not moving to Australia, are you?"

"No. I really just want a place where I belong. I wanted a home. You gave me a rather nice one, even if I was technically living off-campus, so-to-speak." He felt her head slide up towards him and opened his eyes. "I'd like to stay with you all the time, if you don't think that's rushing things a bit. I've always hated going home at the end of a day."

He tightened his arm around her waist. "When I said I wasn't going to be able to let you leave, I hope you didn't think I was speaking metaphorically. I'm quite serious."

"Oh, good," she said, settling back down and tugging the blankets over her shoulder. "You do realize I come with a cat, don't you?"

"He can't be any uglier or more annoying than that clock."

"You haven't seen him yet."

* * *

Yays!


	10. Chapter 10

AN: You didn't think I was done, did you?

* * *

Ron, Crookshanks and Hercules were all perched on the couch watching Robot Wars when Hermione flew in the door with armloads of flattened cardboard boxes and a roll of packing tape on her wrist.

"Hey!" he said, jumping off the couch to help her. "What are you doing here? I wasn't expecting you home for three more days. What's all this?"

She leaned up and pecked him on the cheek. "I'm so glad you're here," she said. "You can help me pack!"

"Pack what?"

"Everything. I'm moving out!"

Ron stopped and stared at her, his heart growing heavy and full of grief.

"You're going to Australia? Already? So soon?"

"Nope. Change of plans. I'm not going to be going to Australia after all."

He let out a tremendous sigh of relief and grabbed up her burdens, but then he stiffened again, as a new dread filled him.

"You're moving in with that Reginald bloke, aren't you? Hermione, we need to talk. I know things are a bit rough for you right now—"

"How long has the fridge been left open?" she interrupted. "How many times do I have to tell you it can't be left open?"

"It's not like it works, I have to keep casting cooling charms on the ale anyway. And don't interrupt me. I'm being serious! We need to have a chat. Now, I know things have been bad for you lately—"

"It doesn't keep things cool because you keep leaving it open! Honestly, Ronald. How can you be so into Robot Wars and have no concept of Muggle electronics?"

"Because if I understood it, it wouldn't be half as interesting." He flung down the armload of boxes he'd grabbed from her and set his hands on his hips. "Now stop changing the subject. I'm trying to tell you that I'm worried about you."

She came back over and gave him a hug.

"I know, and that's why I love you."

"Look, Hermione, I know why you started seeing Reginald, and I haven't bothered telling you my opinion, because you're a big girl. But if you're thinking of taking things any farther with that obnoxious prat, then I feel I have to speak my mind."

"Ron—"

He held up a hand to stop her words and took a deep breath. "If you really are that desperate, then I think you and I should try to make another go of it. I know it sounds like a disastrous idea, but you have to admit that the only reason you're with Reggiemuffin is because you're really lonely. Moving in with him is far worse than you and I being 'friends with benefits,' isn't it? I mean, come on, Hermione, even _I _think he's stupid. You're going to wake up one day and hex his bits off, and the poor sod won't understand why."

Hermione teared up and she threw her arms around him.

"You know what makes this speech even more amazing, Ronald?"

"What?" he asked, suddenly nervous.

"Knowing that you would tell Harry the exact same thing if he was about to move in with someone you thought was a mistake." She pulled away and looked up at him. "And that you would probably have that exact same slightly nauseous expression on your face if you thought he might say yes as well."

He smiled and hugged her back. "I might look a little less nauseous if it were Harry. At least I know he wouldn't yell at me to pick my socks up off the floor all the time." He pulled away again and looked down at her. "I just want you to be happy, Hermione. You deserve it."

She gave him a bright-eyed smile and sniffed. "I'm going to be happy, Ron." She sighed and pulled out if his arms. "I'm not moving in with Reginald—I left him in Greece—and I'm not moving to Australia. I will go someday and meet my parents again, but I have too many things to do and a new life to restart before I do."

Ron gave her a searching look, until the coin dropped and he understood. She blushed.

"He threw you out, Hermione. _Publicly. _Tell me you're not going back to that git."

"I already did. I spent the night with him last night and we cleared up a lot of things. We talked for hours. He admitted he made a mistake based on fear, and he told me he loves me." She looked at him with new tears in her eyes. "And I love him."

Ron stared hard at her in silence for a long moment and then he finally smiled.

"You finally showed him your tits, didn't you? You naughty girl." She grinned back and waggled her eyebrows. "And now he's asked you to move in? I told you they were above average."

"He did seem loath to let them go this morning, but I needed to get this done."

"Right. So where do we start?"

"You take in here. I'll start in the bedroom." She grabbed up a few boxes and the only roll of tape and wandered into the other room.

"I'll pack the kitchen first, that should take two minutes, since there's nothing in it but my ale. Does Snape have a telly?" he called after her.

"No, but I found a Muggle Pub that has Robot Wars Night, so we can just meet there with Harry and Gin."

"Oh, brilliant!" Ron picked up a collapsed box and stared at it, trying to figure out how to put it together. He gave up and transfigured it into a cardboard box that was already glued together. He threw a smirk towards the bedroom.

* * *

Harry was folding sheets in the kitchen of the Burrow when Ron's Patronus scampered into the room.

"Oi! I need help packing up Hermione's place. She's moving in with Snape. Bring more beer."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise and he looked up at Ginny, who looked over at Fleur, who turned to Molly, who sent a Patronus to Arthur at the Ministry.

"Well," said Molly. "You heard him."

* * *

Snape stood in the doorway of his room and stared at his bed. It had been an hour since she' rolled out if his arms with a kiss, saying she'd be back in no time. It already felt like a lifetime. His bed looked emptier than it ever had. His house felt emptier and more bleak than he could ever remember. His heart thumped with fear.

What if she never came back? What if something happened to her while she was out? What the hell had happened to him in such a short span if time that he would be reduced to this?

His life had felt like ashes just yesterday. Then she had come back and he'd felt like he'd been reprieved from a life sentence. She'd told him she loved him, and with that one little phrase, handed him everything he'd ever wanted. Then he'd told her he loved her, and with that one little phrase, scared himself witless. Oh, not at the time. At the time, he'd had her in his arms and everything was perfect. Now he stood in the echoing silence and trembled at the future.

She was moving in. Right now, she was packing her things to move into his home and share his life. What if she didn't like what she saw? What if the reality of having him, didn't meet the fantasy of wanting him? How would he ever survive if she left again?

He walked into the room and sat on the bed. He could still smell her perfume. Her scent. He looked at the pillows and reached out and picked up one of her hairs. He pulled it straight, seeing it was much longer than he'd have suspected, and then wound it around his finger.

He needed more than this. He didn't want to just take her as a lover, like everyone thought he'd long since done. He needed to find a way to make this strange reality he'd woken up to permanent and right. He got up off the bed and walked out the door.

* * *

Snape stomped through Knockturn Alley with his current life savings in his pocket and a vicious scowl on his face. He'd looked in several shops, but there was nothing in Knockturn that would suit. Everything he'd seen had had a previous owner and a shady past. He paused at the entrance to Diagon Alley and heaved a sigh. He'd hoped to avoid it, but it wouldn't do to accidentally curse the foolish woman now that she was actually his because he'd been too self-conscious to do it proper.

He pulled his hood up and as far over his face as he could and headed toward the nicer section of town.

The bell on the door chimed, drawing the attention of a young woman who had been polishing some of the wares.

"How may I be of service, sir?" she asked, in a chirpy voice.

He didn't reply, he just walked along and examined the cases until he saw exactly what he wanted. The price tag would leave him with only two Sickles and six Knuts in his account until next week. He jabbed a finger at it.

"Oh! That's a lovely choice! Goblin-wrought platinum. It's infused with Protective Charms to prevent loss, theft, or damage by anything except dragon fire. We can, of course, engrave it with a special spell. May I ask who the lucky woman is?"

He scowled and snapped, tossing his money purse on the counter. "None of your business," he hissed. "Just give me the ring!"

He regretted it instantly. She recognized his voice. Of course she did, she'd been one of his students. Everyone was one of his fucking students. He couldn't escape the plague of them. It was a stupid slip, and a sign of just how disordered his mind had grown. Now, because of his stupidity, everyone would know he'd bought an engagement ring as soon as the papers came out in the morning.

There was nothing for it. It's not like he would back down. He had no intention of letting her go, and he had no intention of besmirching her reputation any further than he already had. Granted, there was barely a stub of it left, but that stub was precious to him. He was determined to honor that stub, and make her his wife. He'd intended to act quickly, before she regained her sanity, but now he had to come up with a way to ask her before the bloody papers did the job for him.

He snatched the ring out of the elaborate presentation box and shoved it in his pocket, along with the depleted purse. He lifted his head, stabbing the girl with a disdainful stare and inwardly smirking when he saw her blanch and start to tremble. Maybe that would buy him another day. He sneered, and she gasped. Perhaps two. He whirled away and stormed out of the shop.

* * *

Snape was about to push open his front door when his wards warned him there were several people in his house besides Hermione. His mind cleared instantly, and he snatched out his wand before throwing open the door with a bang. The occupants in the house froze, as did his brain.

"What the devil are you all doing here?" he asked the sea of Weasleys that were standing around his sitting room gawping like ginger-headed fish.

"We're helping Hermione move." replied Ron, as Hermione and Harry ran in from the kitchen.

"Severus!" she cried, hurrying over and throwing herself at him. "Where were you? You weren't here when I came back, and you didn't leave a note! I was so worried!"

He wrapped his arm around her, removing her from his line of fire. "I had an errand to run," he said quietly. "Why have we been invaded?"

"I asked Ron to help me pack my flat. He invited Harry, and the rest of them came along."

"Hermione, you're entire flat is two and a half rooms. How much stuff do you have?"

She pointed to a single cardboard box, full of little cardboard boxes that had been shrunken down. He looked at the box, then over at the eight people crowded into his sitting room. He turned an eloquent eyebrow on her and she blushed.

"You have to admit they had good reason to be concerned," she said.

He grimaced and lowered his wand. Stepping around her, he looked around the room. Aside from Potter, and Bill's pregnant wife, his sitting room was swimming with subtle variations of the same concerned frown. Even the horridly ugly cat perched in his chair was ginger and looked fretful.

"Chose one person to say what you all want said, and be done," he said to the room.

Harry stepped forward with an irritatingly brave expression, but Arthur stepped in front of him.

"Severus, we've been among your few supporters throughout everything you have faced since the battle. Hermione has been nothing but loyal and faithful to you, and has had our full support and understanding this past year. However, you must understand that she's family. We can't allow her to be hurt again like she was last week when you publicly humiliated her. She didn't deserve what you did to her."

Severus opened his mouth to reply, but Arthur held up a hand. "I'm not finished. Now Hermione is a strong young woman, and more than capable of making her own decisions. If she chooses you, we can accept that. I just want you to know that she is not alone in the world. She never will be. If you hurt her again, you will answer to each of us, until none of us are left standing. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," he snarled in a tight voice. He stared at Arthur with a mixture of defensive anger and cloying humiliation. He knew he deserved this lecture, but that didn't make taking it less galling.

He turned away and looked at Hermione. "I will be upstairs. When you are finished entertaining your guests, I would like a word with you."

He turned away, and with a tap on the bookcase, he stalked upstairs with as much dignity as he could muster.

He heard Molly calling after him, but Hermione's voice cut across hers.

"Leave him. You told him what you wanted him to hear. I thank you for it, but surely you didn't expect him to stick around so you could pound the point home?"

The rest of her words were cut off when she closed the bookcase after him.

* * *

Hermione entered the bedroom carrying the tea tray, stopping when she saw the room was empty. The narrow bed was made up neatly, and the only other things visible were the chest of drawers, bedside table and the wardrobe with the mirrored door that stood slightly ajar. She stared in the mirror for a moment and furrowed her brow, noticing a black boot in the reflection. She tilted her head over her shoulder and looked behind the bedroom door. Severus was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall and his wrists resting on his knees, while his fingers fiddled with something. He didn't look up at her.

She pushed the door closed gently with her toe and slid down next to him, placing the tray on the floor in front of her. She poured him a cup, fixed it the way he liked it, and offered it to him.

He palmed whatever he'd been toying with and took the cup, looking at her curiously and then looking away.

"Why are we sitting on the floor?" she asked quietly.

"Because when I'm near that bed, all I think about is fucking you," he snarled into his tea.

"And I gather from the fact that we are on the floor that this is not a good thing again?"

He scowled at her and then sighed deeply, leaning forward and placing his cup on the tray.

"It's the thinking clearly I was after," he said. "I haven't been able to think clearly since the first time I walked into that patent office and saw you. I don't like not understanding myself, Hermione. I don't like being held to account by other people. I don't like being made to feel like a dirty old man in my own home. I don't like coming home to unexpected visitors. I really don't like the lack of self-control I've shown."

"I think you showed remarkable self-control, considering. You even let them confront you in your own home and live. I thank you for that, by the way. I thought they were just going to be blatantly nosey. I didn't realize they felt so strongly that they would actually threaten you."

He sighed and leaned his head against the wall with his eyes closed.

"Hermione, they were right. They had every reason to confront me. I treated you terribly. I might do it again. This is a terrible idea. I'm not myself when I'm around you. Last night, when I held you in my arms, it all seemed perfect. Today, when I was treated to Arthur's fatherly lecture on how to treat his daughter, I was embarrassed. Ashamed. Arthur is only a few years older than I am. I felt like a pathetic fool for thinking I could actually get away with claiming you for my own. You're half my age. I can't help but feel like you're making a dreadful mistake."

She didn't say anything at first. His words cut to the quick, but she felt his need to say them and held her tongue. She just shifted closer and leaned her shoulder against his. He didn't pull away.

"When it's just you and I," he continued, "it's easy. But when the real world intrudes, it all seems so tawdry and sordid. I've been so concerned with the effect all of this has had on your reputation that I haven't really looked at how it's effected me. Not my reputation, I don't have one, but my self-respect."

She shifted around on her knees until she was facing him. He opened his eyes and looked at her, and she saw a flash of fear before his face stilled.

"I don't care what anyone thinks but you, Severus. If being with me hurts _you_, then that is a large problem that I don't see a way around."

She lifted a hand and placed it on his knee, caressing it gently. "All I can say on my own behalf is that I know I am not typical for my age. None of us that fought in that battle are. Harry and Ron and I went through hell, and it changed us. Just like the hell you went through at the same age changed you. We are more alike than anyone could know. Neither of us are typical. So it only makes sense that our choices in lovers would also be atypical. I just don't know how to make you see that what others think doesn't matter to me. You freed me from that." She lifted her hand away from him and folded it in her lap. "I love you, and I believe you love me. I think we just need time. I think this thing between us is too new and fragile to judge yet, but if I am already hurting you…" She dashed at the sudden tears. "If you want, we can still be friends, Severus. I've made it work before. I'm sure I can do it again. But I will need time. It didn't hurt this much with Ron. Just being friends with him felt right. Just being friends with you feels terribly wrong."

She shifted back and turned to pick up the tea tray but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. He gently pulled her closer and leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her, shifting his long legs until she was surrounded by him.

"I'm so confused, Hermione. I'm torn. I don't want to let you go. Ever. I nearly lost my mind when you left me this morning, even knowing it meant you were moving in."

"Do you need more space? Moving in together was a ridiculously hasty decision. This time yesterday we were both miserable without each other. We haven't even been together twenty-four hours yet. I just… I feel like I already live here, and I feel like I've been waiting a year to be this close to you. I'm sorry if I moved too fast. I really should have given you more time to process everything. I didn't intend to push you past what was comfortable. I guess I'm just more selfish than I realized."

She felt his rumble of laughter throughout her entire body and closed her eyes. She opened them again when she felt his arm wrap tighter around her. His hand was in front of her face.

"You are not the only one that is prone to being selfishly impulsive, Hermione." With a magician's flourish he revealed a silvery ring, carved with tiny runes and surmounted by a diamond. "This was my errand earlier. You left me alone, and I suddenly decided that I had to find a way to bind you to me so you would always come back." She gave him a shy glance and lifted it out of his grip, admiring the workmanship. "I don't want space, Hermione. I have been alone too long. I just want to be comfortable in my own skin. I want what I have always wanted, the world on my terms."

She turned to him. "I'll give it to you. I will give you the world on your terms, Severus. I would do anything to make you happy."

"Just give me more patience. I don't know how to be happy."

"Yes, you do. We've been very happy for nearly all of the time we've been together already. It can only get better if we let it happen and stay out of the way."

He took the ring from her and slipped it onto her finger, the ring warmed and tightened slightly.

"If we are going to do this, than I want to do it right. I need you to be mine, and I need to do this with honor. I want you to be my wife, Hermione. I don't think I can function anymore without you in my life. Just bear with me whenever the world intrudes."

She smiled and sank into his arms and kissed his scarred neck. "Yes. I will marry you. But not anytime soon, and we won't tell anyone. This way we can keep the world at bay until we are comfortable with our impulsivity."

"Yes, well, about that. There might be a problem."

* * *

Snape scowled up at the laughing woman standing over him and offering her hand to help him stand. He wanted to be truly annoyed, but he liked to hear her laughter too much to maintain it. He snorted and stood up on his own, winding an arm around her and pulling her back into his arms where she belonged.

"I'm glad you're so amused. However, I suspect you will be less amused when the press are camped outside our door again and we're back to being trapped in here."

She smiled at him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I can't think of anyone I would rather be trapped with," she said, leaning up to kiss him.

What was probably intended as a simple peck became more, as he tightened his hold and refused to let her back away. He slid his tongue past her lips and greedily took his fill. The blood roared in his ears as he felt her go boneless in his arms, and when he pulled his head back, he smirked at the drugged look in her eyes. He reached down and scooped her into his arms, carrying her over to the bed.

"Let me make love to you, Hermione. Let me keep you here in my bed until the rest of the world fades away to nothing."

"I would like that," she said. "I would like that very much."

He settled himself next to her on the bed and began exploring the feel of her body through her clothing. He leaned down and kissed her deeply every so often but mostly he just watched his own hands roam across what had been forbidden for so long. Forbidden because of his own pride. Taboo by his own decree. Before, she had always been going to leave him someday. Now, she was his. Everything was changed.

He pulled out his wand and vanished all of her clothes at once and gave a satisfied growl. She squeaked, but relaxed when she saw her clothes reappear on the table next the bed, with her wand perched on top. She gave him a heated look and lifted her arms above her head and arched her back in a stretch.

"Do you like what you see in the daylight, Severus?"

He gazed down on her. "Yes," he said. "You are very beautiful." He caressed a luscious breast with his fingers and followed with his lips and tongue. Her hands came down and scrubbed at his hair, as she sucked in a breath. He felt her move and stretch and then felt a wash of magic steal over him and his own clothes vanished. He went still, feeling suddenly vulnerable and exposed, but her hands returned and soothed him. He lifted his face up and saw nothing but approval in her eyes as she looked at him.

"You are beautiful to me as well," she said. He surged up her body and kissed her hard, pulling her up off the pillow in an effort to show her with his passion what he couldn't with words. She wrapped herself around him like a vine and they both moaned from the feel of so much skin contact. She shoved herself against his cock and he pushed back against her, stroking it against her thigh by flexing his hips.

He trailed hot kisses down her neck and nibbled on the hollow of her throat, before descending and capturing a hardened nipple in his mouth. He lavished her with attention and reveled in her cries. He shuddered from the touch of her warm hands across his skin. He shifted lower and planted kisses down her belly until he saw her little tattoo. His handwriting, done in green ink, below and to the left of her navel. He kissed it, swiping his tongue across it, before pulling back.

"Do you know what that did to me? To see this? To see my mark on your skin like this? I wanted you right then. I wanted to strip you of the clothes that hid it from my sight and nail you to one of those desks with my cock." He slid his hands back down between her legs and stroked her.

"Oh, gods, Severus, I wish you had. I wish you had done."

"Would you have liked that? Would you have let me, even then?"

"Gods, yes. After weeks of staring at our fake kiss in the paper, I would have let you do anything to me."

"I used to stare at that picture as well, wondering what it was like for those two. Wondering if he knew how lucky he was."

He shifted down further and swiped his tongue through her folds, tasting her for the first time, reveling in the glory of the sounds she made as she thrashed on the bed, her moans broken by profanity as she ground herself against his face. He sucked her bundle of nerves into his mouth and she moaned and clamped her legs against his head. He rhythmically suckled her clit as he slid a finger into her and curled it around until he found that spot that made her cries drop an octave. Her hands reached down and began pulling on his leg and when he understood what she wanted he shifted until he felt her hot little hands on him. He grabbed her hip and rolled them both onto their sides until he could pillow his head on her thigh while he tongued her. He nearly shoved himself down her throat when he felt her mouth close over him, and he pressed his open mouth into her leg and groaned. She sucked him until he thought he would scream, and he buried himself in her folds to distract her before she ended it too soon for him. When her mouth slackened and she was down to just lolling her tongue against his cock, he circled her waist with his arm and pulled her up tight against him, repeating the rhythmic suckling while he stroked his fingers into her. She began to pump her hips, and he matched her pace until she came with a long, throaty moan that swirled higher into a glorious cry of release.

The first shudders had barely subsided when she nearly swallowed him whole again. She shifted her body away from him and attacked his cock with her mouth. He rolled onto his back with a hiss and slid his hands down and cupped the base, pushing it upright with his thumbs as he spread his legs and arched his back up off the bed. It felt like gravity broke loose, and he could fly apart from the pleasure.

She toyed with him, bringing him to the edge while he cried out and then backing away as he panted. Finally, he neared that moment when he would no longer be able to choose, and she would have no more control. He gently pushed her away. She immediately climbed on top of him but he sat up and grabbed her and rolled with her until she was on her back, pulling her legs up and wrapping them around him before he positioned himself. He sank into her heat in one, long, slow thrust. He pulled out and slowly drove into her again, groaning at the look of transcendent euphoria on her face. He started to increase his pace, fascinated by the way her face constantly shifted from a glorious agony, to a transcendent pleasure.

"It feels so good," she moaned, stroking her hands along his back. "I feel so complete."

She tightened around him and he let out a ragged groan. "Oh, _fuuuuck_," he whimpered. "_Gods, you're_—" he never got the rest of the words out. His eyes flew open and he shoved himself deep within her and emptied himself with a long shuddering cry.

* * *

*fans face*


	11. Chapter 11

AN: This was one of the lost chapters, so if you see extra rough patches, just squint your eyes and read faster until you get past it...

* * *

Hermione woke to the sound of Severus's stomach growling, her cat scratching at the door, and twigs snapping in the neglected shrubs by the front door. She sat up, but he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and dragged her back under the blankets.

"It's the press," he mumbled, nuzzling her ear. "They trampled that bush every morning the last time they parked outside. You'd think they'd remember they can't see in the windows from one day to the next."

"Ah. Then we failed," she sighed. "Hours and hours of lovemaking and the world still exists. I thought for sure it had gone away."

"Ignore them and they will," he said, restraining another attempt to get up.

"Yes, but the cat won't, and your stomach won't fill itself."

"That's true."

"I would have thought they would have better things to do, now that Skeeter in is Azkaban."

"Cut off one head and three more take its place," he said, while stroking her hip.

She smiled and rolled over and kissed the end of his nose. "Have I told you that you're marvelous?"

"Once or twice at the top of your lungs last night," he answered smugly.

"Then I'm adding 'you look positively adorable when you wake up in the morning' as well."

And he did, with his hair all over the place, and his eyes softened by sleep. The creases from the pillow added a whimsical pattern on his stubbled cheeks. Somehow, in all her wild imaginings of being with this man, she'd never imagined a Severus Snape who woke up rumpled.

He pulled her closer and palmed a breast, pushing his morning erection against her.

"Oh, no you don't" she said. "I'm practically bowlegged after last night, as is."

"You said you would do anything to make me happy," he said, with a smirk.

"Yes, and food will make you happier in the long run. So will toothpaste. Trust me."

He chuckled and with a final, smacking kiss on her shoulder, he let her go.

"Fine. Go find something to feed me, wench."

She rolled out of the bed and pulled open a drawer and grabbed one of his t-shirts, and threw on her jeans commando-style. "Did you want to shower now? Or wait until after breakfast and shower together."

"I'll take option two," he said, pulling the blankets back up over his shoulders.

"Fine. You flop around with the pillows. I'll just head to the kitchen and get right on feeding my men folk, like a good little wench."

"We all have our responsibilities," was his mumbled reply.

She giggled and headed out the bedroom door.

* * *

He watched her leave through partially closed lashes, scolding himself for the sudden flare of panic and loneliness. She was just going to the kitchen, for Merlin's sake. He tried to relax. Tried to just let the lazy morning lethargy lull him back to sleep. They'd not slept much the night before and he was sore in several places. His legs felt like he'd been doing his rounds at Hogwarts at a dead run several times over.

If he was going to have a twenty-year-old wife, he was going to have to get in better shape. Not that he'd done a bad job of it. She wasn't completely joking about ending up bowlegged. He'd made love to her twice and flat out shagged her IQ lower twice more. He'd never been so insatiable before—nor as needy—but all that sex took its toll.

Getting in better shape was merely one of the changes he needed to make. He flipped back the blankets and looked around the room.

* * *

Hermione stared hard at the cooker while Crookshanks wound his way around her ankles in thanks. She'd decided to give in and cook Snape the full English, shuddering at the sight of the frying slices of black pudding and the baked beans. She detested them, but she wanted to indulge him. It was his favorite, and after the Weasley invasion yesterday, he deserved it. The least she could do was let him eat his breakfast without his usual scorch marks. He really was a terrible cook.

An owl scratched at the window and she opened it, taking the morning paper and giving the bird a treat. Hercules chirruped angrily on his perch. He was rather territorial about his treats. She stroked his head gently before opening the paper. She read the headlines and skimmed the accompanying articles, before slamming it down.

She eyeballed the frying nightmare, decided she had just enough time, and then ran into the living room. She threw open the door, gave the photographer a left-handed salute, and slammed it again. Her dash back into the kitchen was interrupted by Severus, who came flying down the stairs in just his trousers. He was holding his robes, a bit of white cloth, and his wand.

"What the hell was that?" he said.

"An editorial reply," she answered as she bounced off him and raced around him to the kitchen.

He followed her in response to her stream of profanity.

"I ruined it!" she wailed.

He glanced at the food frying in the pans.

"It looks fine to me," he said.

"That's the problem," she huffed.

He dropped his robes on a chair and reached to grab down the plates, accidentally elbowing her in the head. "Sorry," he muttered, rubbing her scalp.

She loaded up his plate with the full affair, and then filled her own with her choices, beans and black pudding were notably absent.

He poured the tea, as she reached over and snatched up the scrap of white cloth. He scowled at her as she spread it out to reveal an infant-sized, white linen, button-down shirt.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" she said with a laugh.

"Oh, very droll," he replied. "For your information, I was trying to make room for your own clothing and cannot seem to reverse the charm."

"Ah. I understand. Things just seem to go wrong when we indulge in that foolish wand waving, don't they."

His scowl deepened. "Can you fix it, or not? I will need to run to the tailor, if you can't."

"Oh, I can fix it. But I don't think I will. I rather like you walking around the house half-naked."

He smirked at her. "I'll just take my t-shirt back then," he said, setting his fork down carefully and shifting in his chair.

She snatched up her wand and shrank the t-shirt until it was skin-tight on her. His eyes bulged before he could recover himself.

"Don't think I won't vanish every stitch of clothing you own in retaliation," he muttered, as she laughed.

"How is your food?" she asked, changing the subject.

"It's perfect, thank you. I've not had as good in years."

She was deeply touched, hearing the compliment roll off his tongue so easily. Her eyes watered and she looked down at her plate, shoveling in a mouthful of egg.

"What was the business with the slamming door?" he asked.

She jutted her chin at the paper while she chewed, and he picked it up and read it.

"This is only what we expected," he said, in a serious voice. "I did tell you that they would know sooner rather than later."

"Oh, I don't have a problem with them knowing you got engaged. I had a serious problem with all the speculation over who the woman could be. They never mentioned me as a possibility at all. So I showed them the ring and slammed the door."

He stared at her and his eyes lit up. "You were jealous?"

"Don't be absurd. How could I be jealous? There _is_ no other woman."

"Then why did it bother you? I think you were jealous of a woman who doesn't even exist. Which is fine by me. It evens the score a bit. I had to deal with you being with Reginald all those months."  
"You told me to go find someone. You can't blame me for listening to you."

"Yes, but if you were only going to do what I say once, that didn't actually have to be the time, did it?"

She tried to keep her face straight, but the giggle burst through anyway. "We really are a bit pathetic, aren't we?" she said, with a smile. She enlarged his shirt and passed it back to him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said loftily, as he took his shirt back and slipped it on.

* * *

Severus jumped up from his chair in the living room to answer the knock on the door. The howlers had been arriving _en masse _since Hermione had appeared in the paper flashing her ring, with a smug sneer and a rude gesture, but as yet, no one had been foolhardy enough to come to his door.

He pulled out his wand and threw the door open with a hex ready, only to stop and stare at Ronald Weasley. He had his back to the door and was loudly castigating the group of reporters that were peppering him with their typical, puerile questions.

His invective was rather colorful, if crude, and Snape admired his attempt. Not enough to lower his wand when Weasley turned around.

"Easy, Snape. I come bearing gifts."

"Why?"

Weasley gave him a frown. "Didn't you pop the question to Hermione?"

"I spend the better part of my day asking her questions, to which I rarely get satisfying answers. However, if you are asking if we are to be married, the answer is 'yes'."

"Well then, that deserves a bit of celebration, doesn't it?" He held up the packages in his arms. "Thus the gifts," he added, in a mockingly pedantic tone.

"I suppose you think that will let you in?"

"Look. I know my family was a little overwhelming the other day, but you know you were a git, and you know you had it coming. Let's just put in behind us, but not actually forget it, ay? Let me in, or I give my mum's biscuits to the press here."

Snape scowled and stepped aside.

"Hermione is not here," he said, as he closed the door.

"Where's she gone off to?"

"Ikea."

"What's that?"

"I haven't a clue. I suppose you want tea?"

"Yup."

"Fine."

Tea was made, biscuits were plated, and silence descended.

Finally, Weasley set his cup on the saucer and sat back.

"You know if Harry and I we can accept you because she's happy, you could try and do the same."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "And what would that entail?"

"Well, hexing us is right out. After that, I think the rules are pretty blurry, so I'll let you chose what's best."

"How accommodating of you." Snape sipped his tea and set it down. "What are the chances of you actually giving notice before you show up on our doorstep in the future?"

Ron smiled.

"I'm sure we could work something out." He pulled a bottle of Armagnac out of his bag of gifts. "The rest of these are from the family, and I'll let you open them together, but this one is for you, from me. I just wanted to let you know I am really glad you finally came to your senses. Hermione has been really hurting these last couple of years, and nothing Harry or I did really helped. You turned her around, gave her back her confidence, and gave her even more to boot. You can hate me all you want, within respectable limits, but as long as you treat her right, I won't care."

Snape stared at the bottle in silence for a long moment before regarding the younger wizard.

"Thank you, Weasley," he said taking the bottle of brandy and setting it off to the side. "That was a very kind gesture, and I appreciate your candor."

Ron smiled and reached for another biscuit. "There, that wasn't too painful was it? No one died, anyway."

Snape watched him eat the last of his favorite biscuits. "You haven't left yet. There's still time."

* * *

Snape finished wiping down his bench and turned to watch her, as she worked at the ornate desk that had become hers. Again he felt that fluttering in his chest that was a queer mixture of love and panic. He was terrified by just how much this small woman had become so important to him. It had only been a few days, but the euphoria never quite overwhelmed the constant awareness of his vulnerability. He knew she loved him back. He just couldn't bring himself to trust that someone so young always would. Surely she would set him aside sooner or later. Everyone always did.

She turned her head and smiled at him when she caught him watching, and his chest fluttered again.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"I was wondering what you were working on."

"Oh! Remember that dummy foundation I set up to ask for an independent inquiry?" He made a vague gesture. He never had a clue what she was talking about half the time, when she spoke about their foundations, corporations and whatnot. She smirked at him. "Anyway, they sent me their proposals for the educational reforms they think are needed. It would seem that they have found serious problems with the Board of Governors. Their power over Hogwarts has been found to be intrusive and open to corruption and graft. They recommend the Minister and the Wizengamot review their charter and make some serious changes. They think Pascal Richter needs to be replaced immediately."

"What a shame."

"Yes isn't it? I think I shall thank them for their time and ask them to go ahead and take their findings to the Minister as soon as possible."

"Minerva will be pleased."

"That's a bonus."

"So who else is on your list?"

"What list?"

"Of people to get your revenge on? We own nearly ten percent of the Wizarding world. Rita Skeeter is in jail. Instead of not being able to get a decent job, we now have over two hundred employees. You've just taken down the people who denied you your apprenticeship. What's left?"

She kicked back in her chair. "I don't know. I could take out more reporters, but as you said, more will just show up. Do you have anyone in mind?"

"No. My enemies are dead." He walked over to her and pulled her out of the chair and wrapped his arms around her. "I find that revenge is curiously unsatisfying. The only windmill left to tilt at is public opinion, and I find myself uninterested in that lately."

"True. I find it hard to hold a grudge when I'm so happy."

"Are you happy?" he asked suddenly.

She looked at him and his chest constricted at how beautiful she was. "Yes, Severus. I'm very happy."

She kissed him, and he felt the world slide back into place.

* * *

That first week was one of the best Hermione could ever remember enjoying. She and Severus had been nearly inseparable, as they organized room for her things, as best they could, reestablished their working relationship, and made love in every part of the house, whenever the mood struck them. Her personal favorite location was on top of his potions bench. She suspected he liked that place best as well, but it was beneath him to admit such things.

As if sensing they were boringly happy, the press gave up and went home after a few days.

They'd even spent a nice evening at the Burrow, where Severus was remarkably restrained.

Arthur and Molly offered to host the wedding, and Snape had grimaced, but hadn't actually rejected the idea. She was waiting to feel him out on it again. After all the changes they had been through in the last two weeks, setting a date didn't seem like the way to take things slowly after their explosive beginning.

They slowly settled into a happy routine.

It was so happy, in fact, that it wasn't until the third week of living together that Hermione started to realize that something was wrong with him.

* * *

Bonus points if you know what's wrong before the next chapter drops...


	12. Chapter 12

AN: Always with the babies and you people. lol!

* * *

Hermione was stuffing files into her case, getting her things in order for the company meeting that would be taking place at Arcane when she realized she'd left the projection figures for the fourth quarter downstairs in the lab.

She bounced down the stairs and found an agitated Severus pacing the floor. He stopped as soon as he saw her.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing's wrong," he said. "Shouldn't you be leaving? I thought the meeting was going to be at one o'clock."

"It is. I just need to grab one more file. Are you sure you're alright?"

He gave her a tight smile and stroked his hand down her cheek. "I'm fine. I was just working through some ratio calculations in my head for a new formula I'm working on."

She leaned up and kissed him. "Alright, but you look like you could use a break. Are you sure you don't want to come to the meeting? You always get a nice nap when you do."

He smirked. "You go. I've things I need to do here." He pulled her into a hug that was slightly more needy than she was comfortable with walking away from. "What time will you be back?"

"Probably around four."

"I'll have tea ready when you get back."

"That would be lovely. Are you sure you're alright, Severus?"

His eyes glittered with anger for a moment but then calmed. "I said I was fine. You should go before you're late."

He turned away from her and headed back to his supply cupboard, leaving her staring after him in confusion

* * *

Severus, finished his lunch, helped tidy up the kitchen, kissed her soundly, and then headed back to his lab to finish working on his samples.

Hermione stared after him with sadness, while Crookshanks kneaded her thighs manically.

Severus still seemed fine to the casual eye, but a closer examination showed signs of strain around his eyes that hadn't been there since that last week before she'd left for Greece. What had alarmed her the most was the slight tremor in his hands. He diced and chopped and sliced as swiftly and efficiently as he always did, but when he stirred, she noticed the smallest palsy.

Her troubling realization in the third week, had hardened into a pained concern by the fifth week.

She'd only made the mistake of trying to confront him about what was going on once.

He'd left the house immediately afterwards and had stayed away for hours.

By the sixth week, she was walking on eggshells.

Severus was still attentive and loving, and very solicitous, but it was clear there was something going on that he wouldn't speak of, and she was afraid to bring it up. As she became more obvious in her concern, he grew more hostile. Never with her, but he spared no vitriol for the world, the press, her cat, and he was even back to hexing her clock.

They developed a new routine. They practically hid from each other during the day, and then made up for it with ferocious bouts of sex at night.

It has taken her until two months of living with him before she finally realized what was going on and the scales fell from her eyes. When the truth struck her, she was floored. It was so obvious that she was furious with herself for not noticing before and livid that he had kept it from her.

Severus had been trying to quit drinking… and he was failing.

She didn't know what to do.

She didn't have any experience with drinking problems. Her parents had only indulged in the occasional bottle of wine, and that had always been on an occasion. Ron was a regular drinker, but she could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen him totally pissed since they'd come of age. She really wasn't sure what constituted the difference between being a heavy drinker and being an alcoholic, but she was pretty sure that hiding it was somewhere on the line you crossed along the way.

What had finally tipped her off was the bottle of brandy on top of the refrigerator. Ron had given it to him as an engagement present. She'd grown so used to seeing the ubiquitous bottle in the same spot, that it wasn't until she was sitting at the table alone one afternoon, while Severus stormed about in his basement lab, that she realized the anomaly. It hadn't been touched.

When she'd worried about his drinking before, she'd noticed a pattern pattern. Whenever she'd left on Fridays, there would be a brand new bottle, and when she returned on Monday, there would be a different bottle that was nearly empty. A replacement would appear on Tuesday, and slowly slip away until the next bottle arrived on Friday again.

But the bottle on top of the refrigerator was still untouched weeks later. Hermione knew that Armagnac, though not the most expensive, was considered the best by connoisseurs. For Severus to have left it untouched signified something. On the surface, it would seem to mean he'd given up the drink, but Hermione had smelled alcohol on him enough and tasted Soberup potion on his lips too often these last few weeks to know a lie when she saw one. Severus was hiding his drinking from her.

She was utterly distraught. Not only did he have a problem, but she'd somehow driven it underground, so-to-speak. Now that she knew what the problem was, she had no idea how to bring it up. Severus was the very definition of prickly pride. She'd rather stick her hand in a viper's nest than corner him on something he was obviously ashamed of enough to keep secret.

She sighed and dragged her hand through her hair. There was a new enemy in her life and she needed information. It was time to start this battle. She'd been operating blind and hated that feeling. It would end now. She pushed back from the table and went to grab her handbag and cloak. She jogged down the stairs and saw Severus analyzing potion samples. Her new eyes didn't miss the slight stiffening of his shoulders as she approached.

She lifted a hand and stroked it down his shoulder and across his back, feeling the tension dissipate under her touch. She winced at the realization of how highly strung he was.

"I'm going out for a while," she said. "I have some books to go find and a few more things to get as well. Did you need anything while I'm out?"

He turned to her and pulled her into his arms. "When will you be back?" he asked.

"I'm not sure, it depends on how long it takes me to find answers to some research I'm starting. Not before three, but definitely by tea." She lifted up on her toes and kissed him. He kissed her back hard, and she couldn't miss the desperation behind it. She hugged him tightly, and hoped it filled his need, at least for a little while. When he finally pulled away she smiled and stroked his cheek.

"I love you," she said. "No matter what, I love you. Remember that."

He looked at her strangely but then smiled her favorite smile. "I'll have tea ready by four," he said, kissing the top of her head.

"Lovely! Do you want me to bring back a cake?"

His eyes glittered. "Something with whipped cream would be nice."

She returned a sultry smile. "Done."

She turned and headed up the stairs and when she looked back, he was staring at her intently. She waved and he nodded, before he turned back to his work bench.

* * *

Hermione pulled her hood up and stepped away from the Apparition point and headed straight toward The Three Broomsticks. She may not have known anyone who successfully overcame a drinking problem, but she did know an expert on drinking. That was as good a place to start as any.

Hermione kept her hood down as she sat at the bar and waited for Madam Rosmerta to make her way over. The bar was mostly empty, a favorable sign.

"Hullo, what can I get for you?"

"I'd like a butterbeer, please. And if it's not too much trouble, I'd like a bit of advice, if you have any."

Rosmerta raised her eyebrows and then narrowed them. She lowered her head and peered up under her hood. "I thought that sounded like you," Rosmerta said. "How are you, Miss Granger? I've not seen you in ages. Are you still hiding in Snape's house?"

Hermione pushed back her hood and smiled. "Yep."

"Wonderful! You're a lucky girl, you know. I fancied Snape for a long while, not that he ever noticed." She poured a butterbeer, leaving a nice foamy layer on top and plunked it down in front of her. "Here you go. This one's on the house, for having the cheek to stick it to the Prophet. Congratulations, by the way," she said, pointing towards Hermione's ring. "Now, what can Rosmerta give you advice on? Aren't you the Brightest Witch of Her Age?"

Hermione grimaced. "Only in certain areas. Sometimes I can be downright thick. I need to ask for your discretion, the topic is a bit delicate, and if the papers wanted to spread rumors, I could get into a good deal of difficulty."

"You have my word," she said. "I hate that rag. Especially after the stories they printed about me after Katie Bell. If it hadn't been for the teachers at the school coming in on the weekends, I'd have lost my business."

"You have my deepest sympathy and understanding," said Hermione, taking a sip of her drink.

"How can I be of help?"

"Well, this might sound a bit backwards, considering what you do, but I need to know how to stop someone from drinking, and I thought you might be able to point me in the right direction."

Hermione was unprepared for the look of profound sadness and pity that spread across the face of the woman on the other side of the bar.

"Oh, luv," the woman said, placing a hand on her arm. "There's nothing you can do. Nothing at all."

Hermione recoiled away from her but Rosmerta kept her grip on her arm and refused to let her go.

"You're a smart girl, Hermione. Don't turn away from a truth just because you don't like it." She waited until Hermione settled again and snatched up a clean bar rag and handed it to her to wipe the sudden tears. "It's Severus, isn't it? I always feared he'd fall. It's not how much they drink, you know. It's the way they do. Tell me, you might as well get it off your chest, what made you come today?"

Hermione told her everything. From the beginning. She told her of how he had only ever been helping her, and the terrible price they had paid because of Rita Skeeter and her lies. She spoke of her worries, back when she was just working for him, and the patterns she'd noticed. She told her how the only times she'd ever actually seen him drink, were those times when she'd intruded into his home on her off days. She told her of how they had only admitted they loved each other a few weeks ago, and their hasty decision to move in together. And then she told the woman about the bottle on the refrigerator and how she had only put all the pieces together in the last few days. She told her about the tremors, and the irritability that went too long without seeming suspicious because of his nature. She told her of the sallow cast his skin sometimes took on these days and the dried-out, parchment look it had at other times. She told her about how she had just figured out he was hiding it from her and how desperately she needed to fix him.

"He's so close to being happy, Rosmerta. It's the last obstacle. I must be able to do something!"

"No, pet. There's nothing you can do but love him. No wizard or witch ever gave up drinking because they were nagged, lectured or made to feel guilty enough. But it sounds like he's trying. That's a huge step. You'll have to talk to him. It's the secrets that make it so much worse.

"That and the Soberup poisoning. That's what you're seeing. He must be drinking buckets of the stuff. That's what happens to us Wizarding folk. We drink until we're sick, and then we take a potion and go on as if nothing happened. But once the drink gets a hold of you, then you've started into a vicious cycle of getting drunk and snapping out of it, only to get drunk again a little while later. It affects the liver faster than a Muggle with the same problem. He'll go from sallow to jaundice eventually, and then he'll be in serious trouble.

"There are people who can help, And there's a few books on the subject. I suggest you read them before you speak to him. There's little you can do to help, but there's a million things you can do to make it worse for both of you. You need to understand what you're dealing with."

* * *

Severus met her at the door when she came home. He hugged her tightly and looked like a lost puppy. She leaned up and kissed his lips, tasting the Soberup potion that he must have just drank. She told him the food smelled delicious, apologized for forgetting the pudding, and begged for a moment to put her things away and wash up. She stowed her satchel full of books in the spare bedroom that had long ago been converted to storage. She tucked them in with her still-full boxes of belongings and touched up the glamour on her face to hide her tear-swollen eyes.

* * *

Some of you saw it coming...


	13. Chapter 13

AN: I lub you all!

* * *

The crisis came during tea, three months later. Things had been coming to a head all week long. Severus' skin no longer recovered from the sallow pallor and he'd been walking around all week rubbing his belly and drinking antacid potions. Hermione knew it wasn't his stomach. She pretended not to notice that he'd begun researching liver regenerating potions, and he pretended not to notice her not noticing. Just like no one noticed the smell of alcohol, or the taste of Soberup. And they didn't notice the desperate way they held each other in the dark of the night when the truth was harder to push away.

There had been plenty of warning, and yet there was no warning at all. He had turned with a full pot of tea, just as she'd been reaching for the plates. They had collided in the tiny kitchen and he'd scalded her. It was a minor burn, but he reacted as if he'd stabbed her. He smashed the teapot against the wall and dragged her over to the sink and shoved her arm under the tap.

"Don't move! I'll get some burn paste," he ordered.

"It's just a small thing, love," she said. "I'm fine."

He exploded.

"It's not! It's not fine! I hurt you!" he shouted. "It's because this fucking house is too small! You don't even have room to walk! You don't have room for your things! I hate this fucking house!"

"I love this house!" she cried.

He scraped his hand down his face and sucked in a ragged breath. "Everything would be better if we had a new house," he said in a quiet voice. "I wouldn't hurt you in a new house."

She reached over and shut off the water, drying her arm on a tea towel. She took a deep breath and looked him in his yellowing eyes.

"Yes, you would, Severus."

He froze and then violently jerked away from her as if he'd been the one scalded.

"What are you saying?" he whispered.

She couldn't hide the tears running down her face, so she didn't bother.

"I'm saying that even if we move into a new home, you will still lie to yourself and keep secrets from me. You will still poison yourself trying to pretend you're not a drunk, and I will still watch you slowly die and hate myself because I'm too afraid of your sense of shame to ask you to save your life. Please. Don't do this anymore. At least talk to me about it. I love you."

Hermione held her breath and started counting, staring at his shifting expressions of hurt, anger, shame and betrayal. The last felt like a knife in the gut. She made it to twelve before he turned his back on her and walked away in silence.

She watched him disappear down the stairs to the lab with fat tears tracking down her face. When she heard the first jar smash, she sank to the floor. She wailed as she listened to him smash the rest of them. When she heard the long oak workbench tear out of the wall with a splintered groan and crash against what she could only assume was a desk, she sent a Patronus. She couldn't do this alone anymore.

* * *

Snape sat on the floor staring at the wreckage of his lab and wondered what time it was. His mind slid languidly in circles, cycling through the same thoughts and trying to avoid the most painful one. He wondered what time it was. He wondered if he could fix that bench. He wished he'd eaten something. He wished he'd just fade away, so he didn't have to deal with it anymore. He wished she didn't love him, so it would be easier. He wished he hadn't turned out like his father. He wondered who'd entered his wards earlier and was upstairs comforting her.

All of these thoughts, profound as they were, were just a distraction from the awful pain at his core. He'd hurt her. She probably still didn't realize he was already drunk when he'd burned her with the tea. He knew he was killing himself with the Soberup potion and had simply masked the smell of alcohol and tried to fake it. And he'd hurt her.

How had things got so out of hand? He'd simply wanted to stop once she moved in. He'd been happy and didn't need to drown the pain anymore. But then he'd started making all of these justifications and coming up with more reasons, and everything started to slide through his fingers.

Lately he'd found himself contemplating ways to get her to move back out again, but he couldn't come up with a viable way to return things to the how they were before and yet hold on to the beautiful thing they'd created since. Each time his mind played out a new scenario to the end, he always ended up alone. He couldn't lose her. She was everything to him now. Maybe things would be better if she lost him instead.

He lifted up his bottle and took another long drink. He wondered what time it was.

The kitchen floor creaked under a heavier tread than his little lioness could make. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and slowly turned his head when he heard someone come down the stairs. It wasn't her. She always danced down the stairs. This was a plod. A heavy walk of doom. Each step sounded like the pounding of a nail into a coffin. It was over. One way or another, everything was different. He'd tried to keep it all together for her and had failed spectacularly. He took another drink, in case it was his last, and wished he hadn't turned out like his father.

He finally saw who it was, and he groaned and banged his head against the wall. The other man stepped carefully through the wreckage of the lab and squatted down until they were on the same level.

"Hello, Severus."

Severus stifled a bitter laugh at the pleasant greeting, given the circumstances.

"Hello, Arthur. Come to kick my arse for hurting your daughter again?"

"No."

"You should, you know."

"Would it help?"

They stared at each other in silence for a moment, and then Severus shook his head slowly and said, "No." He took another sip, in case it was his last. "I tried, you know. I really did."

"That's what she told me. She blames herself. She says it wouldn't have got this bad if she hadn't moved in with you and broken your routine."

Snape gave him a long stare and replied, "She's right."

Arthur gave him a disappointed look. "If she hadn't moved in, you wouldn't have started sucking down all that Soberup until you looked like an anemic canary. But you'd have still been a drunk, Severus. Don't lie to yourself about that. The drink would have got you in the end, it just would have taken a lot longer."

Snape scowled and looked away, surreptitiously cradling his bottle tighter, in case Arthur tried to take it away.

"So you've come to save the damsel from the ogre? I suppose she's packing her things? It shouldn't take that long, most of it is still in boxes. I couldn't make enough room for her in this fucking house."

"Don't be an idiot. She's not going anywhere. If I thought it would help, I'd have the boys to drag her away. But no one can get Hermione to give up something she's passionate about. If you think you can _drive_ her away, you've got another think coming, son. She'll stay. She'll stay, and she'll watch you die, and she'll blame herself. None of us can stop her. From the look of you, it won't be much longer."

Severus snorted.

"It doesn't have to be like this," Arthur said suddenly, gripping Snape's knee. "You're strong. You were released from St. Mungo's too early. We all knew that. You finished healing yourself. Alone. You healed your voice. You healed your muscles. You healed your nerves. You can heal this. This is just another injury left over from the war, don't you see? You were left this way, just like they left you the other way. You're stubborn enough to heal yourself of this too; you just need to ask for a bit of help this time."

Snape looked up at him, feeling a dim spark of hope. "How?"

"First we have to get you to the hospital. You've poisoned yourself, and we need to get that fixed. After that? There's people who have been through the same thing and come out the other side. They have the answers. Hermione say there's a group within walking distance of here. Muggles."

Snape recoiled and Arthur patted his knee. "Don't think about that now. Just think about getting up off that floor."

He stood up and stretched out his hand and Snape eyed it. He went to set the bottle down but suddenly clutched it tighter.

"Bring it with you if you need it to get you through the door," Arthur said.

Snape held the bottle tight in one hand and grabbed Arthur's with the other. He stood up and the room swayed. He'd have fallen if the other man hadn't grabbed him. The bottle slipped out of his hand and smashed. Severus looked at it and wanted to cry. He'd never got that chance for a last sip.

"Leave it. It was meant," the older man said, guiding him through the debris to the bottom of the stairs.

Severus balked at the thought of letting Hermione see him this way. He reached into his pocket but Arthur took the potion from his fumbling fingers.

"No," he said. "You know you can't take any more of that."

"I need it," Snape hissed, hating how much it sounded like a whine.

"No you don't. You're not hiding anything from her, Severus. No more lies."

* * *

Hermione heard them coming up the stairs and snatched up the cloaks and her handbag. She stepped back from the door, terrified, but then planted her feet, refusing to hide. Ron and Harry came up and flanked her. Harry took her hand and squeezed.

There'd been no shouting. No hexes had flow since Arthur had gone down there. It had been preternaturally calm, until that last sound of glass breaking. Now he was coming. Was he angry? Humiliated? Had she done the right thing? Did he hate her?

The door swung open and there he was. She started to cry. Not just because he looked awful, he did. With his hair lank and greasy and his skin like yellowed parchment, he looked just like he had when she'd still been his student, and she realized just how long he'd been in this fight. He stood upright, swaying slightly, but Arthur's hands hovered around him as if he were an over-sized toddler taking his first steps.

What really made her cry was the fear he couldn't hide. He stared at her in silence and waited for her judgment in noble terror.

She walked over to him and wrapped her hands gently around his arm. "Shall we go, love?"

He pulled his arm tight against his side, trapping her hands. "Yes," he said.

* * *

Snape woke up in St. Mungo's and panicked, as he had every other time. He took a quick survey of his body, making sure he had all of his parts, before memory filtered in and he remembered why he was there. He turned his head and saw Hermione, curled in a chair by his side and he reached out and stroked her arm. She sighed in her sleep.

He scratched at his jaw, feeling several days' worth of stubble, and wondered how long he'd been under. He poked and prodded at his belly, feeling only a slight soreness, and lifted up his hand to see his normal pale skin. So. He hadn't been too late. They'd managed to save his liver after all. Again.

He turned his head and saw a pile of envelopes and presents on the table next to the bed, along with a large bouquet of flowers and a stack of Daily Prophets.

He let his love sleep on and set to opening the cards. There was one from each Weasley. His stomach clenched from the knowledge that they all knew of his shame now. Molly sent a knitted pair of slippers, worried that his feet would get cold. Ron sent a box of chocolates, with a note saying '_a bloke had told him he needed to switch his addiction_.' Apparently, Ron had decided he needed to take up chocolate instead. Potter sent him a long letter expressing his admiration for Snape's courage and his best wishes. George Weasley offered '_to lend an ear, whenever needed_,' earning a snort. The flowers were from Arcane Alchemy, and the note simple read, '_Sorry to hear of your illness, best wishes for a quick recovery. Signed, Your Employees.'_

He grimaced and picked up the stack of newspapers, judging from the dates that he'd been asleep for the last five days. He'd assumed the fact that he was a useless drunk would be all over the front pages, but as he flipped through them there was no mention of it.

He did notice a couple of articles on Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy's latest charity work. That must have made them happy. They'd had no more success than he'd had in clearing their reputations in the press.

As for his latest debacle, there was simply nothing. It wasn't until he carefully scanned through the entire second day's paper that he understood why. There was a minor mention on page ten that he'd been hospitalized with organ failure, 'due to the war.' That explained the flowers from Arcane.

The rest of the explanation came in a lengthier article on page four.

He grinned and had to stop himself from laughing outright, as he read how Snape Enterprises, Ltd. had bought The Daily Prophet. Draco Malfoy was now in charge of publishing, and Luna Lovegood was the new Managing Editor.

He looked over at his little lioness and felt his heart swell with pride and humility. He glanced over at her ubiquitous satchel and saw the rolls of parchment sticking out. She would surely have him sign them as soon as she woke up.

She'd finally done it. She'd finally bought the entire paper just to shut them the fuck up. Not because of any lies they might tell about her, but because of the truth they might print about him.

He wondered if she'd had enough money to eat for the last week.

He searched around until he found his wand and then shifted over in the bed before levitating her out of the chair and tucking her in next to him. She woke up slightly, but he shushed her with a kiss and wrapped himself around her under the blankets. They both drifted back to sleep.

* * *

Hermione swiped at the kitchen table with her wand to clean it and stared out the window at the decrepit clotheslines hanging above the alley in the harsh light of the streetlights. It occurred to her for the first time to wonder why they were even there. No one used them. Surely everyone had a washer and dryer now. It struck her how sad the sight was. No one even saw the decayed misery that was such an emblem of this area anymore.

Perhaps Severus truly did hate this house. Just because she'd come to see it as a refuge, didn't mean it wasn't his prison. If he didn't want to be trapped here anymore, she'd buy him all of Britain to roam around in.

Hercules chirruped on his perch and Crooks jumped down off her lap, a sure sign that he was home. She hurried to the front door to greet him, as she always did when he came home from one of his A.A. meetings.

He slid his arm around her and smiled her favorite smile. He fished in his pocket and dropped a coin in her hand. She knew its significance, she'd read about them in a book, but she'd never actually seen one before. It was rather pretty. She hugged him tight and kissed his cheek.

"Thirty days. I'm proud of you," she said.

"I've gone thirty days before," he replied.

"Yes, but you didn't have a nearly illegal amount of happiness to look forward to before, did you?"

"That's true." He pulled back and looked at her. "I couldn't have done it without you."

"That's not true, love. You did it yourself. I just facilitated the process."

He chuckled and leaned his head down until it touched her forehead.

"It's early days yet," he said in a more serious voice.

"I know."

"You give me strength, woman. I'm so glad you saved me."

"Fair is fair. You saved me first," she replied.

She tilted her head up and kissed him, a slow, lingering kiss, and then pulled away, as she remembered her earlier thought.

"Severus, do you still want to move?"

"I do. I want a home that only has memories of us, and none of the blackness of my past. A place a new beginnings, that you can fill with your laughter, rather than a tomb your laughter has to fight against."

"Then let's start looking tomorrow. I think we should get up early and get a head start on finding a new place to call home."

He squeezed her tight and let out a contented sigh.

"An excellent plan, as always. And while you're looking for us, I want you to contact Molly and set a date. I'd like to be married by Christmas, and living in a new home when we do would be a bonus. If you're still willing to be married to me, that is."

"Don't be daft. Of course I am."

He smiled and she felt her heart flutter at the sight. He stepped backwards and took her hand, leading her toward the stairs, turning lights off with a flick of his wand on the way.

"If we're going to be looking at houses tomorrow," she said, trailing after him, "then I need an idea of what kind of house you would like, so we can make an informed decision."

He chuckled again. "You tell me, what kind of house do I want?"

"Well, you want room for a lab, of course."

"Of course."

"And it needs to be large enough for children someday."

"I had assumed as much, but I expect more discussion when the appropriate time comes."

"And you want a better view out the kitchen window."

"Absolutely."

"And privacy."

"Indubitably."

"And plenty of room for parking."

"Why do I want that?"

"Because you want a car."

"I do? How interesting, I had no idea."

"You have lots of hidden interests."

"So I must."

"And you want new furniture," she said, as they entered their bedroom.

"What we have is serviceable."

"True, but you will have more room, so you need more furniture."

"That makes sense."

"You want a bigger bed, for instance."

"That seems wasteful. I will only end up sleeping against you anyway."

"True, but you want one with sturdy posts, so I can tie you down on it."

"…holy hell."

"And you would also like a bigger refrigerator so—"

"We're still talking about beds. Get back to the part about beds."

She burst into a giggle as he scooped her up and deposited her on their narrow bed, diving down on top of her.

"Did I cover everything?" she asked. "If there is anything else you want to make sure I take into account, you better tell me now. I want you to be happy with my decision."

"Hermione, all I care about is that it is not here, that you are there, and that it has whatever car you desire and sturdy bedposts. The rest I leave up to you. I know I will like it, because you picked it, you spared me having to, and I love everything you do."

She reached up and placed her hands on either side of his face. "I love you, Severus. You're my everything. I never saw how unhappy this place was because you were always here to make it feel like home to me."

"This place was never a home until you walked in the door carrying those half-dead plants and hung that wretched clock on the wall, Hermione. _You_ are my home."

He kissed her and she felt her toes curl.

She thrilled at the future that awaited them. It had been thirty days since his last drink, and he already seemed so much happier. Certainly, there would be more dark days ahead, but after everything they had faced these last few years alone, and what they had already overcome together, she had no doubts they would triumph.

She squealed when he bit down on her earlobe.

"Mind on your task, Granger. Daydreaming while I'm trying to make love to you is bad form."

She laughed and pulled him tighter against him. "I'm sorry, I was just thinking about how much I love you, and got carried away."

"I'm so glad you love me, Hermione. I love you very much, as well." He nuzzled his nose along her neck, making her shiver. "Now, shall I continue? Or would you rather lay here and dream about me?"

"Oh, by all means, carry on."

*finite*

* * *

Thank you all, I do hope you enjoyed it! My word yard sale is over, but I do have a one-shot gift fic that I will post in a fly-by sometime in the beginning of November. That will tide you over until I return!


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